#but STILL! STILL!! I AM WAILING INTO THE SKY!!!!

[blujayonthewing]

just bought a bunch of stuff for the house [withers into a husk and blows away like a tumbleweed]

[pirateprincessblog]

outlaw

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you wish there would be a time you could call your life boring again. before all the mess, before the town fell apart, before your father disowned you. before jeong yunho. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: wild west theme, cowboy!yunho, bartender!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: praising, claiming, dacryphilia, marking, size kink, oral, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, weapons, alcohol consumption, murder, slight gore, attempted SA 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: django performance might be the reason why i switched from hongjoong to yunho after four years of being loyal. NOT PROOFREAD I AM IMPATIENT I HAD TO POST IT BEFORE GOING TO BED! <3

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"another one, sweetheart."

i'm not your sweetheart, you wanted to mutter. but you bit your tongue, remembering that your father is somewhere in the room. so you have no other choice but to approach the loud, messy table, and pour the greasy dirty man another glass of whatever alcohol you had in hand. it didn't matter anymore, as long as it filled his stomach.

"that's a good girl," he roars with laughter, heavy hand landing on your bottom and making you jolt.

your eyes seek your father, silently asking for help. but no help comes. instead, he points to a different table that demands attention, and leaves the saloon. you stand still, voices muffling around you. your neatly put bun is now falling apart, strands loose on your face and sticking due to sweat, your clothes are heavy on you, and your hands will soon start shaking if you don't take a break from all the work. from early mornings, to even earlier ones the next day, you are destined to be a servant on your own father's property. you wonder if this will last forever. pouring alcohol, dodging flying chairs and tables, taking the harassment so you can survive for another month.

if this really is your future, then what is the point of living? will he marry you off to one of these men? or will he keep you as his servant until the end of his days? you remember the day everything changed for you. you had just come back from the city, finishing the school day. barely a teen, hand in hand with your best friends. your father sat you in the empty saloon, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"you're quitting school."

just a month after you buried your mother, he told you that. there was nobody to help him, he had to fire his staff, and laid his trust into you. the business was crazy that week. who wouldn't want to come and see the owner's little daughter serving alcohol? those men congratulated your father on your birth, watched you play on the street, went to your mother's funeral and wailed with you, came to the saloon to see you struggle with bottles and glasses, only later to have their filthy hands all over you as soon as you turned eighteen. it doesn't stop, no matter how many times you ask. the pleading only makes them do it more, those sick bastards. and each one of them have a wife waiting at home, and a child comforting her.

"hey, bitch, over here!"

monday was a peaceful day. no work, not at the saloon at least. but a basket full of dirty old clothes awaits by the door, waiting to be washed. it is a cold autumn morning, the sun very low in the sky and not warming at all. you drag your feet across the field, hands red from the weight of the basket and the frost. your dress catches onto various branches and bushes, but you do not look back. you need to be done before noon, so you can make lunch for your father.

reaching the river, you drop the basket on the dying grass. a few flowers are still scattered here and there, fighting their way through the cold morning dew. as you scrub your father's shirt on the washboard, you notice just how old those clothes have gotten. you both need new ones, you cannot be walking around looking like the poorest people in town, while owning a saloon. but your father sees no value in those things. talking to him is like talking to a wall that might hit you if you say something it doesn't like. so you keep your mouth shut.

the used, thin washboard suddenly snaps under your hands, a piece of wood jamming into your skin and making you yelp. your skin being almost frozen from being in cold water, and then getting pierced, makes you finally break down. you hug your knees to your chest, and bury your head into the muddy dress. you're cold, in pain, and you miss your mother. your friends. the life you had, and the life you were supposed to have.

sometimes, you selfishly blamed your mother for dying. if she was still here, you could've had a life just like your friends. finding a job in the big city, a man too, a decent one. not this.

you hide your hands in the ruffles of your worn out dress, seeking warmth. you cannot go back home without washing the rest of the clothes, and the sun is rising faster than you want it to. noon will come by soon, and you will have two tasks unfinished. your father won't be pleased.

a distant neigh and galloping have your attention, your head curiously turning to see who it could be. your heart almost sinks when you see the speed the horses are headed at towards you, but with legs and bum frozen on the ground, you cannot move. all you can do is close your eyes in defeat, hoping for the best.

the gallop stops, now switching to a trot. you open your eyes, and see two shiny horses in front of you. the two men riding them dismount, one of them standing next to his horse and taking the leash from the other one. the taller man adjusts his hat, gaze fixed on the floor, and fastens his holster. you gulp, seeing the shiny revolver resting on his hip. then, he raises his head to finally look at you. you almost forget the potential danger of the situation once you look at his brown eyes. he is tall. very tall. and absolutely gorgeous. you look away, suddenly aware of how you look. heavens, what a perfect timing.

"oh, it's just a doe." he says, voice soft and sweet. he tilts his head, trying to get you to look at him. when you don't, he takes a step closer to you, careful not to scare you away. "came for a morning refreshment?"

you don't respond. instead, you look at the man behind him. he stands still, leashes in his hands. his clothes are a bit more rugged than the ones on the man in front of you, but it fits his image very well. then, your eyes betray you end lay on the man in front of you again. he wears a brown leather jacket with fringes, dark blue jeans, and matching brown boots. his brown hat sits perfectly on his head, giving him a mysterious look. he notices you staring, and only chuckles softly. he reaches into his saddlebag, retrieving something wrapped in a white cloth.

"hungry?"

this time, your stomach is the one that betrays you. it decides to grumble as soon as you shake your head no, making the man chuckle again.

"go on, you can have it. you look like you need it."

he holds it out for you to take, closing the distance further. you step back, remembering your father's words.

"no speaking to other men outside of the saloon. if i see you do that, i will personally declare you a whore. nobody will want to marry you, and you'll be alone for the rest of your life."

charming. the man doesn't give up, as he steps further towards you. you step back again, hunger, fear and curiosity fighting inside of you and making you sick to your stomach.

"it's alright. it's just food, i don't mean you any harm."

but he doesn't know what words ring inside your head. taking another step back, your heart almost stops once again. you have stepped into the shallow river, your body losing balance following. the handsome cowboy drops the item on the floor, and firmly grabs your waist and pulls you back to stand on the grass. you instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, and he pulls your body into his. you breathe out when your chest collides with his, overwhelmed by the situation.

"clumsy girl," he teases.

you can't make yourself move, not only because you don't want to, but because his grip is firm on your waist. he safely moves you away from the water and removes one hand from your body, only to move the loose strands of hair from your face.

"wyatt," he calls.

the other man steps towards the two of you, not uttering a word.

"you go on. i'll catch up with you."

without protest, he gets on his horse, nods towards his companion, then gallops away. you are left alone with the ridiculously handsome cowboy, now feeling a bit warmer than a few moments ago. the man finally lets go of you, picking up the cloth from the ground. a distant thunder surprises you, and you look over at the scattered clothes. the black clouds over the mountains are covering the blue sky quite fast, and it just seems at this moment that everything is working against you.

you hurriedly collect the remaining dirty clothes, crouching down and brushing it against the half of the washboard as best as you can. your hand is in pain, still dripping red, but your father's consequences are more painful. you'd rather have a hundred more splinters ripping your skin than your father slapping you across the face like he is used to.

the man lets you finish, turning his attention to the horse. in the corner of your eye, you see him caressing the horse's mane. the animal leans into his hand, enjoying the comfort of his warm and caring touch. he looks so tough, yet his actions are a complete opposite.

"if you're done staring, you can join me."

caught red handed, and red cheeked, you turn around to see him sat under the nearby tree, opening the white cloth. he sets it on the ground near him, and folds his arms across his chest. you pick up the now clean clothes, the broken washboard forgotten and floating somewhere further down the field. you sit next to him, the food serving as an imaginary border. he takes his hat off, putting it over his face and rests his head against the tree.

"if you're embarrassed to eat in front of me. now i won't look. eat. please."

and you do. you take a bite of the biscuit, enjoying it like it's your first one ever. you take the chance now that he doesn't see anything to properly look around. his horse is gorgeous, white with brown legs and head. you then look at its owner, still chewing on the biscuit. the more you look at him, the more your stomach feels all fuzzy. is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? are you finally experiencing a crush?

you should really get home.

thunder grumbles again, causing the horse to become restless.

"shh, you're good." the cowboy says soothingly, not moving from his spot. and the horse listens.

it soothes you too, because you lean against the tree like him, and silently eat. your breathing matches his, and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep. until you start feeling drops of rain on your head. you don't say anything. you don't really need to, because the man interrupts his short break by standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. you take it, your hand melting into his as he helps you up. his touch is secure, and gentle. nobody has ever held you this way, and you are afraid you might get used to it. he leads you to his horse, throwing his spare jacket your way.

"i'll take you home."

"no!"

the cowboy scrunches his eyebrows, and abruptly turns towards you. his hand doesn't leave yours, no matter how hard you pull. "she speaks." he says, as if he made an important discovery.

you shake your head frantically, repeating yourself. "no, you can't."

"why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"because."

"that's not a valid answer, sunshine."

if your stomach wasn't turning from the difficult situation you have found yourself in, it would turn from the simple nickname coming from his mouth. you aren't quite sure whether you're feeling nervous because of your father, or because of the handsome stranger. you remember that he is just a stranger, no matter in how much awe he has you. if you get on his horse, he could take you anywhere. but if you don't get on his horse, he could simply tie you up and take you with him anyway.

fuck.

"i like to walk." you blurt out, grabbing the basket of clothes and holding it in front of you, as if shielding yourself from him.

"lies."

"please, just leave me alone. thank you for the food, and for, well, not letting me fall into the water, but-"

"does he beat you every day?"

he says it with a tone so serious it has your blood going cold in your veins. his gaze becomes stone cold, dark, and it pierces right through you. seeing your distressed face, he steps towards you again, moving your hair away from your neck. the bruise you thought you so cleverly hid now uncovered in front of him. funny how a potentially dangerous stranger shows more interest in it than the town.

"or only when you do something wrong?"

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it isn't. however, if you want it to stop, you might have to make it my business."

you wish for nothing more than for it to stop. but exactly how does this man plan to make it his business? talk to your father? teach him a lesson? or the worst?

"i'll tell you what. i'll bring you just to the hill so nobody sees us, and you think about what i said until then."

you nod, defeated. you really need to get home as quick as possible and get started on the lunch. the cowboy helps you up on the horse, then climbs behind you. this is the closest you've ever been to a man, and if you weren't sneakily reading those short romance stories in the back of the discarded newspaper, you would think that you are becoming ill by how hot your cheeks feel. when he grabs the leash, also helping you hold the basket in the process, you take your time to admire his hands. pretty pale fingers, slightly muddy from maybe hours or days of riding. he smells of whiskey, vanilla and a hint of tobacco. you allow yourself a moment of weakness, closing your eyes and inhaling the scent. it doesn't help the way his warm chest and torso are pressed against your back, rubbing against you with each horses gallop.

when you open your eyes, you are disappointed to see the hill. it means that the short little adventure with the mystery cowboy has come to an end, and that you might never see him again. it's all up to you. and you hate that.

he helps you down, then fixes the ruffles of your dress that were slightly turned upwards from riding while you are occupied with the clothes in the basket.

"well?" he finally says, seeing that you have no intention of speaking first.

"i'll be fine." you lie.

you almost miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek from disappointment. almost. he nods, understandingly, and approaches you. for the last time, maybe. he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the place where your splinter is. "take care of that. wouldn't want such pretty hands to be in pain or have a scar."

he kisses the back of it, eyes not once leaving yours. you almost shiver, from the cold and from his touch.

"thank you for your company, dove. we must part ways now, but i do hope i see you again one day. you are too pretty to forget."

he takes his hat off to say his goodbye, then climbs back on his horse. with a sweet smile and a nod, he gallops away. you stand there and watch, heart swelling with sadness. you watch and watch, until he becomes just a small little dot in the distance.

weeks pass, and your life dynamic does not change. you still serve drunk perverts, avoid sexual offers, cook, and freeze yourself by the river. only now, you wake up earlier than usual, and keep looking at your surroundings in hopes of seeing a familiar brown hat. but you never see it. it's been almost two months, and not a single sign from him. maybe for the best. he did look like bad news. very handsome bad news.

you currently sit in a dark corner in the saloon, reading last weeks newspaper for the romance update on the last page. the appearance of the main character morphs into the cowboy in your head. no longer short, blonde haired with blue eyes and bulk figure, but dark haired with a short mullet, with brown eyes and a slender figure. you didn't even catch his name, yet you shamelessly daydream about him.

the doors of the saloon aggressively swing, startling you and breaking your bubble. you turn the newspaper upside down, hiding your little secret. a young man, known as denver, stands at the entrance, face pure horror. your father approaches him, putting his hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

"what's wrong, boy?"

denver barely gets his sentence out, before countless gallops are heard outside, accompanied with various screams. "he's here."

"who is?"

"the stallion."

you have never seen your father scared. and that scared you even more. he took a step back, abandoning the young man. the saloon became a mess, everyone pushing each other on the way to the exit, but suddenly coming to a halt. you stand up, taking your place behind the bar. the people are stepping back, slowly, still facing towards the doors. they separate in two groups, making way for the intruder. and when your eyes land on the intruder, you swear your heart could jump right on the bar in front of you.

your cowboy, your mystery man, the man you prayed you'd see again, stands in your saloon. drenched in blood and dust, sweaty, and with a revolver in his hand. the look on his face when he sees you tells you that you weren't meant to see him in this state. but he doesn't say anything. instead, he approaches the bar, along with his companions. they are all a mess, but not as much as him.

"good day, darling."

your stomach twists again, and you have to fight the urge to smile. you can't smile, not when everyone around you is terrified. you clear your throat, collecting any stray thoughts before speaking. "good day, sir."

"two rooms. and two bottles of whiskey waiting for me tonight." he says, a sweet smile on his lips.

"uh, yes-"

"there are no rooms available for you." your father interrupts, making his way to the bar.

the cowboy raises his eyebrow, then looks at your father. "oh?"

"yes. so i'm afraid you'll have to call it a day here."

the young man chuckles, eyes returning to your face. he throws a roll of money on the counter, then pushes is towards your father with his stained revolver. "don't be afraid, we won't."

you feel caged by his gaze, afraid to even move. why are you here, you wanted to ask. and why do you look like that. his clothes might look different, but the look on his face when he looks at you stays the same. in the corner of your eye, you notice someone trying to exit sneakily. but the cowboy also seems to catch it, because he points his trusted weapon toward the ceiling and-

"argh!" the woman screams, pure fear painted on her face.

"nobody leaves, until i get two fucking rooms and two bottles of whiskey. have i made myself clear?" he slams the revolver on the counter, causing you to jolt and step back. "now, if your pretty little daughter said that i can have them, just why the fuck are you meddling?"

defeated, your father takes the money, then nods your way. "show them."

alone?, you wanted to ask. but your tongue feels swollen, and your jaw heavy. you don't say anything. instead, you look at the fearsome cowboy, then proceed upstairs. the three of them follow, not uttering a word. you reach the rooms, opening the doors for them to see. the cowboy nods towards the room, sending them a signal to go in. when the two finally close the door, the dark haired man wastes no time in softly pinning you against the wall, just between the two doors.

"there, there. are you that scared of me, sunshine?"

you swear your eyes couldn't get any wider, and you hate it. you must look like a freak to him. but if you do, he doesn't show any disgust. he removes your hair from your neck once again, letting it fall down your back. his knuckles caress the now yellow spot on the neck, the bruise slowly healing.

his eyes shift from the bruise to your eyes, his gaze softening. "not excited to see me?"

you gulp, figuring which words to use. you are, and you are not. you don't even know.

"that's okay."

his other hand find its spot on the back of your head, slightly tilting it so that the injured side of the neck is more exposed. you feel his warm breath against your skin, growing hotter and closer. you finally let out a noise, it being a whimper rather than a proper word or sentence. soft lips graze your skin, before his tongue delicately swipes across your bruise. your stomach has never felt fuzzier, and your head is in the clouds. all those butterflies you felt while reading the newspaper have now turned into a volcano, waiting to erupt any second. the cowboy continues giving attention to your now sensitive neck, having you tremble in his arms.

he notices, putting his other hand on your waist and pushing you further into the wall, silently ordering you to stay still. he leans his own body into you, warm sensation enveloping you and causing you to moan into his ear.

realizing your horrible mistake, your hands quickly find their way to his firm chest, in an attempt to push him away. but instead, your fingers grip the fabric of his ruined leather jacket, and your head falls completely in his control. his hand massages your scalp, all while his tongue never leaves you. he switches from tender kisses, to kitten licks, and if he doesn't stop soon, you might just drip all over the floor and his shoes. 

as if he heard you, he delivers one final kiss, before he pulls away. "i'll see you downstairs at dinner. thank you for the room, dove. and for the lunch."

hearing the door slam shut, you can finally breathe normally. you are left to tremble against the wall, your neck and underwear wet, all because of him. you rush to one of the empty rooms, at the end of the hallway. you lock it, then toss yourself on the bed. you waste no time in flipping your dress over, your fingers finding the soft folds between your legs. you gasp, more at the state of it than the feeling. you are soaked, your fingers almost slipping from your folds.

you spend a worrying amount of time trying to please yourself somehow, but the buildup is just growing and growing, not giving any signs of erupting soon. no matter how much you picture your handsome cowboy, just a few doors away.

and you don't even know his name.

"did he touch you?"

"what?!"

"i'm serious. did he do anything to you?"

"father-" since when do you care? "he didn't!"

he continues to follow you while you serve the guests, asking questions and demanding to know the truth. "did he say anything?"

"like?"

"anything."

"he asked for a prostitute and i said i'm available tonight."

smack.

nobody turns, already used to your father's free will. you bite the inside of your now stinging hot  cheek, wishing for nothing more than to hit him with the bottle of gin you had in your hand.

"fucking slut. just like your mother. give me that." he yanks the tray from your hands, causing two glasses to fall and shatter. "pick that up, and go to the stables."

"but it's dinner time-"

"judith will help me. go. now."

not only do you end up not eating yourself, but you don't see the man whose lips you're still feeling on you. maybe that's why your father told you to leave, just so you don't see him. is it possible that he knows today isn't the first time you see the cowboy?

you search for his horse, the one you thought was the prettiest one you've seen. but it's not in the stable.

"it got shot. he had to put her down." slowly getting used to sudden intrusions, you turn around. one of his companions sit on a block of hay.

"oh." is all you manage to say.

"a shame, really. especially because she was a present from his wife."

"what?" you turn around, the bucket of carrots falling from your hands.

"ah, he didn't tell you? why would he. he wouldn't be able to get into your pants if you knew he was married. haven't you noticed something shiny on his finger?"

no, no you haven't. because you were so mesmerized by his face and behavior you didn't question whether he has someone waiting for him at home. besides, a married man wouldn't... touch you the way he did?

"ah, poor thing. you thought he had a thing for you? you don't compare to his wife. he's an outlaw after all, our yunho. his wife is a perfect match for him, almost a female version of him. did you know that the bounty on her head is higher than his?"

you feel like you could throw up. from multiple reasons. you let a married man touch you. hell, you touched yourself to a married man. not just an ordinary man, but an outlaw? what if his wife finds out? is she really that dangerous? will you be next on her victim list? not able to contain the emotions any longer, you run to the corner, bending over the blocks of hay and puking on the floor.

"ah, there, there. i'm quite surprised, that was the calmest reaction yet. other women tend to jump at his throat immediately."

other women? the ground sways under your feet, threatening to crumble and swallow you.

"since you're not in a state to speak, i'll answer all the questions in your head. have a seat, please."

you finally take a good look at the man once you sit down, seeing him stand up in front of you. he's no less handsome than the cowboy, yunho, and he is older. but the somewhat evil smirk on his face is off putting. you hold the now empty bucket in your lap, carrots laying on the ground for the horses to feast on. just in case you feel sick again.

"see, while yunho does love his dear wife, she can be a bit of a handful for him. too... dominant for him, one could say. so he seeks submissiveness in other women, just like you. women who are the opposite to lori, women who are, well, nothing. much like you."

his words shoot at your heart, and you know he is right. it just feels disappointing to hear it out loud. were you really a nothing?

"he sleeps with them and whatever, and kindly robs them while they sleep from exhaustion. the rest of us do the same with others, not to worry. it's rude to exclude, don't you think? you know, you should really pay more attention to that notice board next to your house. my head is the third one from the left, right under the mighty stallion."

"why would you tell me this? what's in it for you?"

"my, you speak! what's in it for me? nothing, if i'm being honest. i just happen to be aware of the treatment your father gives you, and i guess the years are starting to catch up to me. i think i feel pity."

"you're going to ask for something in return, aren't you?"

"clever girl, you are." he crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "give me what you wanted to give yunho."

"i didn't want to-"

"you think i'm dumb? like you? i know that if he had only asked you, you would've jumped in his bed right away. therefore, i tell you, give me what i ask."

"no."

the older man scoffs, then stands up again. his hand remains on your cheek, but his thumb stops caressing it. he removes it, only to bring it back with a slap. losing balance, you fall on the ground. the man doesn't give you any time to process what just happened, grabbing you by your shoulders and throwing you on the pile of hay. you open your mouth, letting out a scream that gets cut off by his lips on your mouth. they feel greasy, reeking of onion and beef, not remotely close to yunho's.

your hands are trapped above your head, his hand holding it in place while his other one struggles with the layers of your dress and apron. you kick, as fast and hard as you can, but you only manage to piss him off. he pulls away, only to spit in your face.

"i bet you wouldn't give yunho a hard time like this. why do all women have to be so difficult? all i want to do is make you feel good, baby."

tears stream down your face, words stuck in your throat. even though nothing is blocking your mouth anymore, you don't speak.

"you know, if you just let me... i'd get rid of your father for good. i could take you with me, i'd make you feel good any time you ask. i could-"

his words are left hanging in the air, and you feel hot liquid splash over your face. the shooting noise catches up to you right after the man's body falls on you, lifeless. you finally scream, lungs hurting from the amount of it. your hands fly to your face, wiping off the liquid and staring at it. red drips down your hands, onto your neck, pure terror filling your body as you realize you have someone's remains all over you. short and fast breaths leave your mouth, chest compressed under his heavy figure. it is not until another figure pulls him off you, and puts his hand over your mouth with hushing noises.

"it's alright, love." you recognize the voice as wyatt's, who then helps you up. "hey, you're fine."

you're not. you do not know who to trust. then again, when you don't trust your own father, why bother?

"let's get you washed."

after splashing your face with cold water and wiping it with his handkerchief, wyatt helps you to the back entrance of the saloon, then goes back to the stables. probably to finish the business.

you find yourself laying in the guest bed again, only this time, the sheets aren't wet from arousal, but from tears. you spend at least two hours, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling . you feel dirty, still feeling his dirty hands all over you. your fingers hesitantly touch your face, afraid that you'll stain them red again. your dress and apron still have droplets of now brown liquid. is this what yunho does? is that why he looked the way he did when he entered the saloon? only the blood on his clothes was still red, still very fresh.

if what the dead man said was true, then you best stay out of the cowboy's way. and just like that, your secret little romance story has turned into a horror one.

the next few days, you don't see yunho much. you see the prostitutes coming down from the top floor, sometimes two or three of them at a time. and you are disgusted. you only see him at breakfast, from afar, and he doesn't show much interest in approaching you. his companions surround him, making the frown on his face bigger every day. were they discussing the strategy of robbing the town? was there something in their way?

for a split second, the man catches your gaze. his eyes soften, and you swear you could see a faint smile on his lips. but you couldn't return it. not when you know the intentions behind it. the soft look is replaced by confusion, which grows even bigger when you only spare him an ice cold glance and move on with your work.

saturday evening, the saloon is full. it is foggy, reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and is loud. you don't see him or his crew yet, and you are thankful for it. at least one evening of peace. so far.

"it's kind of disappointing, you know? i mean, the sex is amazing. well, you know. you had him yesterday. but it's so sad that the town fears him and wants him dead. wouldn't mind having a piece of that every day. my body is burning, and it's been two days, but i still want more."

"i know, right? what a shame. i wish he'd stick around longer. i don't know about you, but i love that thrill of knowing that he's an outlaw. a wanted man, a gorgeous wanted man, having his way with me? i don't think anything will top that. i mean, did you see his-"

"another drink?" you interrupt, not able to listen anymore.

they giggle among each other before handing you the downed glasses. the saloon quiets down when they hear thuds coming from the stairs. you regret looking up, eyes immediately locking with familiar brown ones. everyone seems to watch their step, ready to get up and free a table if yunho desires it. oh, the amount of power he holds. that isn't supposed to make you feel some type of way. you're supposed to hate him.

but how, when he approaches you so politely, tucking that loose piece of hair that's been bothering you all evening behind your ear. such a simple gesture, which awakes the oceans in you, and probably means nothing to him. just a foreplay, before he finally cages you and fulfills his plans.

slowly, but surely, the music goes on. the people are relaxed once they see yunho doesn't have any thirst for blood tonight.

"gin."

"right away."

the night goes on, with you tending to everyone. and the cowboy follows you with his eyes, so much that the two women at the bar near him start throwing themselves at him just to get his attention.

"say, when are we going to have fun again?"

"yeah, stallion. did you forget us already?"

yunho chuckles, seeing you approach the other side of the bar and mouth their words with a mocking face. you hear him, raising your head enough to look at him. caught red handed, you only awkwardly press your lips in a thin line, continuing to wash the dirty glasses.

"you were never really ones to remember," yunho simply says, bringing the glass to his lips and downing the drink in one go.

he stands up, not sparing the women a glance even after they audibly gasp and start murmuring among each other. he approaches your father, saying something into his ear, then looks at you once again before disappearing upstairs.

"here," a clean washcloth lands on the bar counter by the end of the night.

"what?"

"that cowboy, stallion. he needs a bath."

"so? he can get his own washcloths. why do i need to- oh."

"yeah, oh. we haven't had a single man in a while, so there was no need for edith. now you can go fill her position."

great.

you knock on the door, and use the other hand to fix your hair before you hear him say come in. you do as told, two washcloths secure in your hand as you go deeper in the room. it takes everything in you to stand still not collapse from the sight. his clothes are carelessly dumped on the floor, and he lays still in the wooden basin filled with water. the place is steamy, the fireplace keeping the winter cold away. yunho has his arms hanging from the basin, and his head resting against the edge. the steam has caused his hair to stick to his face, which was shiny. droplets of sweat roll down his neck and into the water, and you think that is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

he is so manly, so handsome, and so...

"you gonna stand there and watch while i slowly cook myself into a stew here?"

he is fresh shaven, that is the first thing you notice when you approach him. he lazily opens his eyes, the hot water having relaxed his muscles a bit more than he wanted to. "right, sorry."

you wet one washcloth, then wrap it around a bar of soap. you haven't done this since... ever. yes, you helped wash your sick cousin. but she was sick, and it was different. this? having a whole man naked right in front of you, and you were supposed to touch him?

"go on. i don't bite. not unless you want to."

"i really don't." you murmur, finally pressing the soap against his hot skin.

you exhale, your heart threatening to escape from your chest and jump into the basin with the cowboy. a thin layer of fabric is all that is in the way of you finally feeling him the way you wanted. a fabric that could so easily just slip from your fingers, and you accidentally touch him. and he likes it. and he acts on it. and-

"i see you breaking your back down there. every day. with your father, with all those perverts, with all those jealous women. you deserve better. my offer still stands, you know?"

"i'm fine," you say, just like last time.

"give yourself some time to think."

the next half hour is quiet. peaceful sounds of the wood cracking, water dripping, and yunho's calm breathing. his eyes are locked on you, and you are sweating as much as him, only for different reasons. you fear that he can read your mind, figure out just how naughty the images in your head are getting. but when it gets to a certain point, you are reminded of that night, and you stop. that bastard has stolen your first kiss, and almost stole your first time. if anything, you are thankful that yunho has brought wyatt with him.

"uh... can you sit up straight?"

yunho raises an eyebrow, amused. you clear your throat when he doesn't move, looking around before finally figuring it out.

"could you sit up straight, sir? please?"

"right away, darling."

he does as asked, exposing his back to you. heavens, you want to- you want to- you don't even know what you want. there he sits, a whole meal right in front of you, and all you can do is breathe heavily and act all clumsy. you rub the soap on his back, gently massaging him and feeling every line on his body.

"you missed a spot."

"huh?"

"right here." his warm hand takes your wrist, guiding you towards his chest once again. your hand rests over his beating heart, and if you weren't so foolishly focused on seeing what the missed spot was, you would've seen the look on his face that is yelling to kiss him.

"oh, sorry."

he doesn't get angry. instead, he chuckles fondly. you are so delicate and innocent, it hurts him. too mesmerized by your focused face, he doesn't notice that your hand is traveling to his stomach. he jolts, hand clasping your wrist so tight that it has you whimper. you seem to have found a sensitive spot, not only to the body, but to the mind and heart. the look on his face shifts from a soft to an angry one, and you take it as your cue to step back.

"that's all. you can go." he mutters, looking away from you.

"but-"

"i'll finish up. go."

coming back to the stables, it takes a lot of energy. you first go during the day, with jongho. he knew, wyatt told him. the rest only knew that wyatt and the man got into a fight and wyatt had to shoot him. jongho is understanding, kind, and doesn't seem to share any of the qualities that the dead man had given them. not only is he not interested in doing any harm to the town and its people, but he is rather helpful.

yunho, again, is nowhere to be seen. you hesitate to ask. you don't know what you did wrong, but you pray that the night isn't your last encounter with him.

you stand in front of the stables, memories flooding your brain once you see the hay blocks. they have been rearranged, some destroyed, possibly by jongho or wyatt. the horses are sitting together in the corner, enjoying the warmth of each other during the first snowy day.

"i can't do it." 

"that's alright. i won't force you. i just don't want one sick man to keep haunting you even when he's no longer here."

"i need time."

jongho only smiles reassuringly, patting your shoulder. he's nice, why doesn't your stomach toss and turn when you see him the way it does when you see yunho?

"i still wonder what he told you about yunho. your behaviour towards him isn't at all like he described it."

"what, he spoke to you about me?"

wyatt subtly kicks his knee from the side, ordering him to stop. but jongho feels rather mischievous today, and is growing annoyed of his leader. they were supposed to move on days ago, not behave like tourists.

"you first. i want to know why you despise him. well, except obvious reasons." the young man turns around, pointing at their companions scattered in the main street, keeping people away and scared.

you sit on the bench in front of the stable, running your hands through your already messy hair before finding the right words to say. "is he married?"

the two men look at each other, their faces not giving you much of an answer. they are extremely good at masking their emotions. wyatt sighs, sitting down to your right. "yes. and no."

"what do you mean? yes or no?"

"well, it's complicated." jongho says, sitting to your left.

"it's also not our story to tell," wyatt adds, looking over at jongho with a warning look, "yunho is the one that should be telling you."

you scoff, making both men look at you in confusion. "does it matter? he'll just sleep with me, you all will do your part of the job, and then you'll leave. i should do it as soon as possible, for both of our sakes. i imagine you can't wait to leave this town, just like we can't wait for you to leave."

"listen, if yunho wanted to harm you, he would. we never stay in one place longer than three days. we've been here far longer, as you can see. i don't know the reason yet, but i know he doesn't mean any harm. did he have a change of heart? doubt it. will he continue his crimes? i don't doubt that. is there something holding him here? yes, yes there is. i might have a guess, but-"

"jongho. shut the fuck up."

"i wasn't going to tell her, wyatt, relax."

the two men bicker over you, random words and sentences traveling to your ears and overstimulating your brain. you start feeling dizzy, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. you stand up and march down the street, leaving the two men to feel bad on the bench.

the next time you go to the stables, it is night again. and it is because your father throws a glass at you. it hits the wall right next to you, breaking, shards flying into your skin. you have nowhere to go, yunho's companions basically running the town by now. you don't need one of them to get a hold of you again. you sit on the new pile of hay, far in the corner. sobbing, pulling at your hair, cursing yourself.

how wise would it be to actually take his offer? would you be able to survive on your own? or would every single man in town finally be happy that you're all alone, unprotected, and out of someone's cage.

it hurts to even think about it, and it causes you to sob even more. your chest hurts, and after what seems like hours of crying, you aren't sure if it's from physical or emotional pain.

the animals seem to feel sorry for you, because soon enough two horses find their comfort in the hay right next to you, shielding your figure from the outside world. you can't help but laugh at the bigger one, his head pushing into your lap and demanding attention.

"aren't you cute?"

your fingers gently caress its neck, lulling it to sleep. it seems like the whole stable was affected, because soon enough they all start laying down one by one, calling it an early night and pulling you to sleep with them. funny how you got way more peace and affection from animals than your own family.

"moonshine."

click. click. click.

"come on, girl."

the warm surface you were laying on moves, following the mouth clicking noises and leaving your head to rest on the hay. you're still asleep, not aware that someone else has joined you in the stable. but the other person isn't aware that you're there either.

"there's my good girl," the man pets the black stallion, which lives up to its name and stands under the moonlight, in its full glory and shine. "aren't you beautiful?"

your eyes peel open, the voice slowly waking you up. you hear crunching, and a bucket rattling. when you finally open your eyes, you see the outline of the familiar figure at the entrance. it is not yet morning, that you figure out by the darkness that has swallowed the place. the only light being the gas lantern hanging from the saloons entrance, you don't see much. but you recognize that hat and figure anywhere.

"i wish you could speak, my pretty moonshine. you'd tell me why blood was spilled, and why my pretty girl won't lay her eyes on me anymore."

his...? his pretty girl? you don't move a muscle, hoping to hear more. the mare only points its head towards the bucket, demanding more food. yunho chuckles, reaching for another apple.

"do you think i scared her away? i made sure she knows i don't mean any harm to her. did someone fill her pretty head with something?"

the mare lets out a noise, as if wanting to confirm. yunho exhales, then sets the bucket aside. he goes further into the stable, walking just past you and grabs the saddle from the corner. going back, his boot gets caught in your dress, and causes him to halt. you shut your eyes, pretending to still sleep.

"heavens." he exhales.

you feel him get closer to you, and almost betray yourself when you feel his knuckles caress your face.

"darling?"

his voice is usually low and pleasant, but hearing him whisper is just something else. why does he have to be so perfect, yet so dangerous?

you stretch, pretending to not notice him yet. finally opening your eyes, you fake a gasp. you lean back into the hay, trying to keep a distance from him. he crouches in front of you, fixing his hat. you can't get over how well it suits him.

"had a good nap?"

"well, yes. had." you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"that's no place to sleep, dove."

"it's the only place that gives me comfort right now."

he nods, understandingly. he offers you his hand to take, and you only look at him, puzzled.

"i'll take you to a place that will give you more comfort."

"i'm not sure-"

"that wasn't a question." the tone is serious, but the wink he gives you after it relaxes you.

the cowboy stands up, making his way to his mare. you stand up, dusting off your dress and following him. he puts the saddle on the horse, securing it, then offers you his hand again. this time you take it, not yet sure what he had in mind.

"go on, climb her."

"uh... she's quite... bigger than the last one. or any other one i rode on."

"yeah, moonshine is quite something. she's gentle though, nothing to worry about. go on, don't be shy."

with a bit of struggle, and a little push from yunho, you finally sit comfortably on the tall mare. she indeed shines under the moon, black fur reflecting beautifully in the dark night. yunho climbs behind you, taking the leash in his hands and guiding the mare down the street.

"is she fast?"

"she can be. want to see?"

"i don't know. i might scream."

he chuckles. he maintains the pace, gracefully trotting down the quiet sleepy town. you see some of his companions keeping watch, each nodding their heads your way as you pass them. your gaze falls on his hands, searching for the shiny item that was mentioned that night. but you don't see it. was it really a lie? or did yunho somehow know, and took it off? is the wife even real?

"hold on tight." he whispers into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck and cheek.

you grab onto his thighs, instinctively, right before you pass the last house and yunho whips the leash against the mare. it neighs, puts its two front legs up in the air and almost throws you on the grown. you gasp, but manage to collect yourself once the animal returns to its position and starts galloping. it feels like you're flying, and you're enjoying it more than you're scared of it. your hair flies into his face probably, but he doesn't say anything.

you pass hills, past the river where you first saw the man, and into the mountains. you don't remember the last time you went this far outside of town. not only because you weren't allowed, but you had no time or way. it's not as if you had a horse of your own.

his thighs are firm under your hands, nothing but pure muscle. and it suddenly drives you crazy, the way you feel his torso pressed against your back, arms holding the leash and keeping you from falling off along the way, his breath against your ear.

"you alright?"

"yes!"

"how do you feel? scared?"

"this is so much fun! it's scary and fun!"

his laugh is loud over the wind, chest vibrating behind you. the mare slows its pace when arriving on the steep mountain trails, carefully navigating to the top. once there, it comes to a halt. it is not very high, but high enough too overlook the fields, the river, and the distant town. yunho dismounts, then helps you down.

"cold?" he asks, noticing your trembling frame.

"a bit."

this time, he doesn't throw the spare jacket at you like the first time you met. he takes off his own, helping you put it on. it's warm, smells like him, and it's making you so dizzy you might just fall off the cliff. taking a good look at him, you decide that even if he is dangerous, his handsomeness makes up for it. he wears a brown waistcoat, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders. heavens, he is so dashing.

you stand still, waiting for his next plan. he pulls a blanket out of the saddlebag, along with the familiar white cloth, and sets it on the ground. the mare continues it's path further up, taking a spot near a boulder, as if used to the situation already. which brings you back to the questions in your head; did he bring other women here?

"sit down, peach. make yourself comfortable."

and you do, right next to him. you both sit still for a few moments, looking at the faint light in the distance. yunho then fidgets with something in the pocket of his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. in his open palm lays a ring, the very ring you've heard about and had your head spinning for days.

"hmph," he laughs through his nose, "figured that was the issue."

"there is no issue. you have a wife. end of story."

"take it."

"no."

"take it."

"i don't want to."

yunho sighs, then closes his hand again. he sits still for a few moments, as if thinking. and then-

"why would you do that?!"

you stand up, watching the shiny piece of jewelry fall from the cliff.

"if you listened and took it, you would've seen how worthless it is."

"i don't need your wedding ring, yunho."

his eyebrows are knit together, and you suddenly realize your mistake.

"you know my name."

"yeah."

"how?"

and you tell him. every detail of it, including the wife story. he listens carefully, face not giving any emotion. typical. by the time you finish, you are laying down and looking up at the shiny sky, tears streaming down your face. yunho is propped up on his elbow, laying on the side and listening. his fingers catch a fresh tear, brushing your cheek in the process. you are left completely baffled when he puts the very same fingers on his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the salty liquid.

"you poor thing." he coos, bringing his hand back to you. he removes the hair from your neck, then smiles with satisfaction once he sees your healed skin. "that's good. seems my medical techniques worked."

you scoff, putting your hair back over your neck with embarrassment. "so, uh... your wife?"

"a psycho."

"oh."

"she stabbed me. almost bled out to death if it weren't for jongho."

he says it so casually, as if it isn't a big deal. "you're still married though, right? that's why you had the ring."

"not quite. we weren't really married. it was just play pretend, so she could have half of everything i was bringing back. once i stopped, the bitch jumped me with a knife. barely made it out alive."

"then... why did you keep it?"

"to keep women away from me. well, those i didn't want."

"but you sleep with them. you use them anyway."

he frowns at the accusation. "no, no i don't. i only rob. i sleep only with prostitues, sometimes. what my companions do is none of my business. we have a deal, and i do not ask about what they do. just like they don't ask about me or what i do."

so, not all of it is true. but then again, can you really trust him?

"i'm so sorry, dove. if i knew that sick bastard would go behind my back, even after threatening them not to touch you-"

"it's fine. nothing happened." you try, seeing him get angrier with every second he spends imagining the situation you were in.

"he stole your first kiss."

"well, yes. but, what's done is done. it was barely a kiss, really. more like mouth to mouth breathing. it was like inhaling a whole onion." you say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. but yunho doesn't laugh. instead, he unbuttons his waistcoat, then his shirt.

"what- what are you doing?"

"well, since you showed me your bruises, and told me your story, it would only be fair that i showed you mine."

you remember the night you washed him, when you went to touch his stomach and he told you to leave. kneeling in front of him, you finally get to see why. a scar decorates his lower torso, just above the jeans and the v-line. you breathe in, ready to do something you would only in your dreams.

you lean in, hands trembling against the blanket and fingers scrunching it from the nervous state you're in. yunho shivers, feeling your lips press against his scar. you don't stop there, inspired by his own actions. you allow your tongue to graze it, and when you get another gasp from him, you take it as a sign to keep going. his hand finds its place under your chin, raising your head to that you can look at him. and he snaps.

he grabs you by your waist, pulling you up so that you sit in his lap. you don't fight back, you're enjoying it. over the layers of the dress, you feel something poking you, and it makes your cheeks heat up.

"stop looking at me like that." he whispers, lips inches away from yours.

"like what?"

"with those big eyes. like you want me to ravish you right here."

"maybe i do."

"you're saying risky things, sugar."

seeing that he doesn't intend on making the first move, you do. you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. you don't know what you're doing, but try your best. luckily, he gives in, humming into your lips and kissing you properly. his hands on your waist scrunch the fabric of your dress as he contains himself from just pushing you below him and having you his way. he needs to take it slow. you're not like others.

"relax your jaw." he mumbles, and when you do, he allows his tongue to touch your lips, as if asking for permission to enter. and you grant it, parting your lips and unsurely letting your tongue join his.

he massages your muscle with his own skilled one, rubbing it just right and making your thighs rub and seek pleasure. he kisses you slow, and deep, each stroke of his tongue more passionate than the previous one. he feels you get annoyed by something, and is forced to stop.

"what is it?"

"as much as i love your hat, it's in the way."

the man chuckles below you, immediately removing the hat and putting it on your head. "there."

"how do i look?" you adjust it, getting used to the new item.

"like a feast."

with a swift move, yunho pulls your body closer to his face, so that it is between your legs. his hands shuffle through the layers of fabric, finally finding the undergarment and pushing it aside. "what are you doing? i'm going to squish you!"

"sit."

"what?!"

"sit."

you hover above him, not yet listening. this time, he is the one to get annoyed, and puts his hands on your bottom. he slams you against his face, tongue immediately licking a stripe up your already slick folds. you gasp, hand flying to his shoulders for support.

"rock your hips, sunshine. make yourself feel good."

you do as told, rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue, soft moans and gasps leaving your mouth. you tremble in his hands, the newfound pleasure too much for you to handle. "i can't- yunho, it's too much-"

the man only sends you a mischievous look, before taking the situation into his own hands. his plush lips close around your clit, sucking it, while the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. you let out a long and loud moan, body shuddering from the surge of intense pleasure.

"fuuuck-" you whine, hips hopelessly grinding against his tongue.

deciding it's enough, yunho flips you underneath him with a swift motion. "do you want to do this?"

"yes, please."

"then, i'll have to prepare you. since you asked so nicely."

he flips your dress over, exposing your wet bottom to the cool air. you shiver again, his jacket not helping much with the cold.

"this is going to hurt a little. i promise i'll be gentle."

you nod, then go back to abusing the poor blanket underneath you. you bite into it, feeling his long digits intrude your tight walls. it is unpleasant, but not that painful.

"that's a good girl. you're so wet for me, look how easily you're taking me."

he starts pumping in and out, squelching noises having you completely lose your mind and almost drool on the blanket. his fingers are long, very long. how will you survive his-?

"this good, darling?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, sir." you moan out, hips moving along with his hand in hopes of more pleasure.

he doesn't speed up. being soft and slow seems to be his way of doing it, and it is a pace you are enjoying very much. it's not fast, like you do it. you do it to get rid of it. he does it for actual pleasure. when he removes his fingers, you can't help but whine at the loss of contact. he turns you around so that you lay on your back, facing him. his hair is a mess, much like yours, and he smiles lazily at you.

"my needy girl." he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips. "can i claim you, sweet thing?"

"what?"

"do you wish to be mine?"

do you? or is it just the horny speaking instead of you? either way, you might end up regretting. so you simply say:

"yes, sir."

"say my name, darling." he pulls himself out of his jeans, the tip of his cock running circles on your sensitive clit.

"yunho."

he hums, slipping his tip past your folds. "again."

"yunho," you gasp, feeling him inch by inch splitting you in half.

"again."

"yunho-"

"more."

"yunho," thrust, "yunho," thrust, "yunho!"

he gets lost in the feeling of your tight warm walls, hips snapping deep inside of you and driving you crazy. you get wetter by the second, even more when you see him so dizzy. it's nice to know that you have him in a chokehold as much as he has you.

"does it hurt?"

"no," you reply.

"that's because you're so perfectly made for me. look at you, you fit in the palm of my hand."

that's not true, obviously. but the way he says it makes you really feel that you could fit, and that you could stay protected there. his hips collide with yours, and your eyes roll back.

"such a pretty pussy," he growls, pace getting sloppier and slower. "wish i could do this all night long."

"me too," you moan.

his hands rip your dress apart, exposing your chest. his lips waste no time in attaching to your skin, leaving bite marks all over it, until reaching the tense nipples. he takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around it, while his other hand plays with the other. your fingers find comfort in pulling his hair, subconsciously pushing his head into you further.

"my sweet peach," he coos, cock sliding in and out so easily, "my pretty girl."

"so sweet"

"even your moans are so beautiful"

"use me for your pleasure, darling"

you find yourself moving your hips along with his, only in a faster pace. you need to finally feel that orgasm. you feel something build up in the bottom of your stomach, and you're not sure what to do.

"yunho..."

"yes, my love?"

"i don't know how to- how to orgasm."

"you'll feel it. don't think about it. just relax, and let your body do it. let me do it."

you feel the buildup, then you lose it. again, and again, until you whine about it. yunho turns you around again, so that you are sitting on his lap. you feel him deep in your stomach, almost pulsating.

"let's try this."

he helps you up and down, rolls your hips, until he finds what works for you. you hover above him, hopelessly biting into his neck to contain your inappropriate noises. his hips snap into yours with a fast pace, finally hitting the spot you didn't know existed. the buildup starts again, this time not stopping. and when pleasure washes you over, you can't help but pull at yunho's hair mercilessly, moaning into his ear and letting yourself completely go. he helps you ride it out, waves of intense pleasure washing over you as yunho helps himself get closer.

"fuck, darling." he growls, pulling out of you.

"wait, what about you?"

"i'll just- i don't know."

his hand wraps around his cock, which is ready to unleash any moment. the man almost audibly gasps when he sees you kneel in front of him, innocently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. just how did you know?

"are you sure?"

"positive."

"absolutely sure?"

"yunho?"

"yes?"

"please cum in my mouth."

and it's all it takes. yunho jerks himself on your tongue, or at least tries to. some of it ends up on your face, but you so carefully try to collect every single drop he gives you. you don't miss the way his head falls back, eyes rolling and low moans escaping his pretty lips. coming down from his high with one last pump and moan, he finally looks at you. the texture on your tongue is not the most pleasant one, but you decide to impress him further, and swallow it. he scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

"you are just perfect, aren't you?"

in the morning, the ride back is much more comfortable. you still wear his hat, proudly, and his jacket. he can't help but kiss your shoulder as you ride, having it difficult enough to keep his hands off you. if only he could hold you in his pocket all day.

upon entering the town, you notice the people, your people, standing and waiting. would now be the right time to tell yunho you accept his offer?

he helps you dismount, before taking the revolver in his hand.

"what's this? a rebellion?" he says, mockingly.

"does she know?" your father asks, pointing at you.

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking between the two men. something shines in your fathers hand, and you realize he also holds a revolver.

"there is nothing to know." yunho replies, approaching him and standing in front of you. "you keep your mouth shut."

"oh, but there is. see, my little daughter, if you want to whore around, you could've picked anyone from the town. not your own mother's killer."

blood runs cold in your veins. the sun suddenly doesn't shine as bright anymore, and the man in front of you morphs into someone else. he turns around towards you, shaking his head. "no..."

"he shot her."

"you shot my father!"

"he deserved it!"

"no, the fuck he didn't!"

you step back, tears burning your eyes. did you really give yourself to the man who took your mother away from you? who also took your father away from you?

"listen-" yunho tries, hands reaching to touch you.

"don't touch me."

"he came here to finish the business. but he didn't count that he would fall for the daughter. what a clash of interests."

he doesn't deny it. and it only infuriates you more. so he did have an evil plan after all.

"you came for me, didn't you?" your father presses further, raising his revolver.

"no, i didn't." yunho replies, face changing from a guilty and sorry one to a neutral. "i came for her."

he grabs you by your shoulders, putting his hand over your mouth. you toss, scream, and whatnot, but what are you compared to his grip?

"i assume you won't care much if i took her away. but it would mean much to me. tit for tat."

"you are to never step foot into this town again. not you, not your companions."

yunho nods. and your father puts his weapon away. and it crashes your heart. you know you don't mean much to him, but to give you to an outlaw so easily?

"i came for what i wanted, not to worry. you won't see me ever again."

and just like that, you find yourself tied up and tossed over the black mare.

why did you ever wish for a life other than the one you had?

"you're all mine now, sunshine."

feedback greatly appreciated! <3

[tohokuu]

boobs, boobs, boobs - tengen, kyojuro, akaza, aizetsu

tumblr is based off a system of reblogs. reblog my work.

word count : 1.5k

warnings : tiddy sucking, somnophilia in akaza's

a/n : first time writing for kny...

TENGEN

tengen’s mouth watered when he saw your perky nipples sticking past the thin white fabric of your shirt. it was colder during this time of the year, so he knew that your nipples poking through was inevitable. his main concern was how he could help in fixing that. 

he didn’t want you embarrassed, ya know? imagine sanemi or kyo drop by and get a chance to see your perky tits. he couldn’t have that. your tits belonged to him. they were cute and squishy and all he wanted to do in this moment was sit you down on his lap and suck your nipples until you pulled at his hair. 

wouldn’t that be flashy?.. he thought. 

you sighed as you wrapped tengens thin blanket around you. it didn’t make much of a difference, though. you were still shivering cold. he knew the only way to keep you warm was if you were laying flat against him (tit in his mouth). 

“baby, is it cold in here or just me?” tengen spurred on. you looked up eagerly, staring at him in shock. “are you not cold?” you asked him. he shook his head. 

“i’m not but i can tell that you are.” you saw tengen’s eyes dart directly down to your chest, raising a brow as he stared shamelessly. “hmm, have they always been this perky?” he asked you slapped his arm in embarrassment.. or at least tried to slap his arm. instead, he grabbed you by the bicep. pulling you down onto his lap. 

it was in mere seconds, he had the blanket draped around your shoulders and your chest exposed for him. he could see goosebumps rising on your skin, standing up to the sky as he undressed you in the bitter cold. “fuck.” tengen sighed as he stared at your chest. 

“the piercings are so flashy, honey.” he crooned. you blushed, looking away from his face. 

“can i warm you up?” 

-

KYOJURO

kyo was pretty uncaring when it came to how you dressed around the house. you usually lounged around in some loose pants and a short, cropped shirt of his. today was no different. you were cooking when he walked in the next morning, shirtless with only a pair of trousers on. he didn’t pay much attention to your chest until you turned around, handing him a cup of tea. 

“good morning, kyo!” you chirped, smile fresh on your face in the early morning glow. kyo smiled tenderly. “thank you, my angel.” you kissed his pec after, walking away. kyo didn’t know what it was, that got him thinking that morning, looking at your ass and raising a thick eyebrow. 

“mm tasty!” he said as he sipped on the honey and lemon flavored tea. joining you on the couch, he leaned over, laying his head on your chest. he snuggled his face into your chest, groaning and grunting softly as some of the sleep was still settled in his mind. his eyes fluttered open and closed softly as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“mmm.” he whimpered, enjoying the scratch of your nails against his scalp. kyo got up, getting on top of you and surprising you with his sudden outburst. his eyes darted down to your nipples poking through the thin cropped shirt. “fuck.” he groaned. your eyes widened as he help himself balance on his forearms, caging you in between. 

suddenly his head was under the fabric of your shirt, his lips attached to your nipples. they were cold and hard, and in need of his mouth. his tongue swirled around your buds that were getting harder as he teased them. you gasped, moving up to discard of your shirt. 

“kyo!” you cried, wailing as he bit and sucked at the skin. “you think you can just walk around like this with your nipples pokin’ out and not expect me to say anything?” he growled. kyo sounded eager, not in his usual gentle and soft nature. 

“gonna make you cum from sucking your tits alone.” 

-

AKAZA

akaza walked into your bedroom at around 2 am. your window was open and you slept soundly in bed. he raised his eyebrow and sighed. 

how many times had he reminded you to lock your window at night… 

you never listened to him, always arguing with him and teasing him. he was never angered, though. he’d smile thinking about you as he worked throughout the day, following orders. you were his comfort space, the one he’d visit at night when he had nothing particular left to do. 

he walked into your bathroom like he owned the place, washing his face sighing while he ran a wet hand through his pink hair. 

things were calm and quiet. a part of him wished that in another life where things were easier, he could just do simple house chores with you. it wasn’t that simple, though. life was hard right now and he couldn’t take care of you the way he wished. he had to settle for this. 

coming in to your bedroom unannounced at night and snuggling with you while you slept. he listened to your soft snores and soft whimpers when you had a impactful dream. today was one of those nights. 

he knew you were having a wet dream when he began to smell the wetness from you. a scent of pheromones bursting into the air and clouding his judgement. he watched as your nipples got visibly harder through the thin camisole you wore. his mouth watered. 

you turned towards him in your sleep, whining and pulling him closer, grinding your cunt on his thigh. “fuck..” he whispered. 

“a-akaza..” you whined, half asleep. he felt his dick get hard, making his pants uncomfortable. he suddenly didn’t care anymore. you had given him permission to touch you in your sleep before but he never went through with it, feeling a tiny sense of shame to do that to you without your knowledge. 

but his judgement was clouded today. his day was rough and he couldn’t care less about morals right now. 

he lifted your shirt up, his chest rising faster and faster seeing you whine for him even in your sleep. a primal urge overtook him as he dove into your chest, mouth wrapped around your buds completely. 

he sucked and whined, two fingers dipping down the waistband of your sleep shorts and feeling the slick gathered in your panties. “you dirty, dirty girl..” he groaned. 

he couldn’t wait for you to wake up to the hickey’s on your chest tomorrow morning. 

- 

AIZETSU

aizetsu was always sad. his eyebrows furrowed in sadness and worry. his zipped up the black nike tech in the mirror, unable to waiver the solemn expression on his face. 

he figured coming to see you would maybe fix his mood just a bit. 

the knock on your door at 2 am was a surprise. you didn’t get a call or a confirmation that someone would be showing up to your door this late. you took extra caution checking the peephole. 

the rush in your throat went down when you saw that it was just your solemn boyfriend, dressed in his usual tech. you opened the door, head tilted to one side as you invited him in. 

“zetsu, what happened?” you questioned. your boyfriend was often sad. he was quiet and didn’t speak much to others unless he had something significant to say. 

“nothing. i just missed you.” he softly spoke, staring down at the ground. your own eyebrows furrowed as you pushed him deeper into your apartment. 

“do you wanna cuddle with me?” you asked. 

he looked around nervously before nodding. you laid in bed, urging him to remove the hoodie he wore and just lay in his t-shirt. 

his strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in. aizetsu pushed his face into your chest, hoping he’d feel better. 

your fingers went straight to his dark locks, tugging at the strands softly. “what happened today, angel?” you asked. 

“sekido was making fun of me today.” he whined. his lips pouted, eyelashes fluttering to keep away a glimmering sheen of tears. “ ‘m sorry, zetsu. don’t listen to anything he says. he’s a dickhead.” you told your boyfriend. 

“can i suck your tiddies?” 

your mind felt like it broke. 

“w-what?” you asked. your boyfriend looked up at you, his eyes widened and brows furrowed as if he was ready to beg. 

“y-you heard me.” he whispered. you were right. you had heard his random and bizarre request. he had never asked before. in fact, you two hadn’t even done anything significant yet. 

“sure.” 

and suddenly your shirt was torn off of you, flung into a separate corner of the room. your boyfriends personality always made you forget how brawny and muscular he was. his body didn’t match his soft facial expressions and you could hardly recover from the whiplash you had received. 

aizetsu’s arms were wrapped around your waist and upper back, pushing your body into his face. he sucked your nipples harshly, no care in the world that it might have been hurting you or not. 

he licked and tenderly bit the skin, looking up at you with his brows this time pushed together to focus on the task. 

he planned on sucking your tits into making himself happy. 

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©️ tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.

leave a comment and/or reblog pls !

[dcxdpdabbles]

Phantom's number 1 Fan. Part 2

Tim wakes a few days later, half submerged in liquid and hooked to various machines. He is in a tub shaped like a bed, obviously meant to sleep in. Around him is what he hopes is a hospital room with medical tools scattered about and soft blue paint that turns to the night sky the higher it goes on the wall.

On the ceiling are paintings of various constellations. It's rather beautiful.

Tim also notices he feels no pain. None. Not even the aches of his bones after years of abuse while fighting crime. He thinks that's a bit strange since the last thing he could clearly remember was barely escaping Ra's al Ghul, losing his spleen, and gaining more wounds from angry assassins on his way out.

He had been flying half-blind, blinking in and out of awareness. He thinks at one point, Cassie had attempted to call him, and he may have answered, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he told her.

He did remember what she said in response. She sounded so desperate as she begged over the S-Batplane speakers. "Please, Tim, you're not well. Let us help you. Just tell me where you are."

Too bad for her, since the S in S-Batplane stand for Secert because Tim had built that one on his own in Secert. There was no way she or any of the hero community could track him in it since they had no idea it existed until Tim had taken it and his supplies on his solo mission to save Bruce.

Tim will admit that he is happy they noticed he went missing- even if it was three months too late. Not that it mattered much. The rest of the Bats wanted nothing to do with him. The world only saw him as a young easy wallet as a shiny new CEO. And his friends were all dead or convinced he was insane by Dick.

Tim didn't have anyone to notice he was gone anymore. But Bruce needed him to push through the ache and get him home.

As the Robin who Bruce trained to put the mission first no matter the cost, the one that came after Jason's death so, Bruce stopped allowing himself to think of Robin as a son and more along the lines of a soldier; he quickly shut down the crying child that wailed for someone to believe him, to support him.

Sometimes it felt like Tim was still waiting by the door of Drake Manor, waiting for someone to come and care for him, to stay for him.

The door to his room opens, snapping Tim back to the present. He automatically stiffens, expecting more of the League of Assassins. He can't remember much, but he guessed he was captured by the fact he was sitting in a green glowing water.

He was not, however, expecting a Yeti to walk in, reading a clipboard.

The Yeti looks up, bearing its teeth at Tim when he notices him awake. It takes a moment to realize the action is supposed to be a smile. "Great One's Honored Guest, I am so glad you have awakened. I am FrostBite, your doctor for the remainder of your recovery."

Okay. Ra's has Yetis at his disposal.

He was the only person that Tim knew as the "Great One." Usually, his most loyal operatives too, which means he was deep within Ra's territory.

FrostBrite pauses for a response, but when Tim remains silent, he holds up his board. "It seems to me that most of your wounds have healed. The only problem is that your spleen could not be salvaged due to the damage."

Tim fights to keep the despair off his face. He figured that was the case, seeing as Ras's had it in a jar, but he had hoped.

"...I understand this may be a difficult adjustment. You will always have to be careful when being ill. Even a simple cold could be disastrous." Frostbite steps close, taping one giant claw on the tub's edge. "The Great One has ordered we keep consistent Ecoplasm Baths at the ready for the remainder of your natural life."

Fuck. The Yeti is saying Ra will never let him leave again. It's a threat disguised as a offer of help.

Tim glares down at his hands. They lay within Lazarus' water, gently healing his small scars. This must be some of the purest Lazarus he's ever seen. It must be Ra's own special blend.

The only reason he is wasting it on Tim is that Ra's wants an heir from him. Or for him to become the Heir. He doesn't know, which makes him feel worse but he does know what lust looks like.

It's one that Ra's has aimed at him for too long.

He may as well get this over with. Learn as much as he can. Plan an escape. The best way to do all that is to simply ask.

"When is the wedding?"

Frostbite freezes. "I beg your pardon? Whos wedding?"

"Th Great One and mine" because the madman would never allow a bastard to inherit his empire.

"You and the Great One....are paramours?" Frostbite sounds awe. Shoot his medic doesn't know anything. The Yeti is likely low ranking.

Tim looks away, and the giant white creature jerks into action. "I apologize for not treating the Great One's beloved properly. I shall have servants bring up a meal while you soak. And the finest robe we have! Sweets and messages....offers of gold?....humans always like gold."

He waits until the Yeti leaves, mumbles of giving him the royal treatment echoing in his wake. Tim sighs, sinking into the water. He knows he is being watched as that's what he would do, so for now he needs to stay put and heal.

He's never going to get Bruce back if he acts too rashly without knowing where he is and what else Ra has under his control. Yetis were no easy feat to beat on his own. He like to avoid....a vampire or something too.

Half an hour later, FrostBite returns with the promised meal and change of clothes. Smaller Yetis help him dress in threads of the finest silks. They feel like heaven on his sensitive skin. Tim feels soft and warm all over, pampered beyond belief.

It's been so long since he just had a moment to rest.

He asks for a walk which he is only permitted after Frostbites clears him. It's while he is wandering that he realizes he is in some winter castle. Everywhere he looks, there is ice, snow, and yetis.

He notices all the guards and makes mental maps of possible weak spots. He wonders why he's not freezing despite only being in a thin silk robe. A form of magic?

A few yetis- servants he can tell by their mannerisms- bow as he wanders about. He can't tell where he is based on the sun or the environment. It's....somehow different.

"That's him?" A young female voice asks. He turns his head slightly to catch the speaker in his provisional vision. It's one of the smaller Yetis....he assumes she's a child? Hard to tell when she still towers over him. "The Great One's future spouse?"

"Yes, I heard King Frostbite, himself, tell the Head Butler"

"He's weak," another Yeti says with disapproval. He sounds male but young as well. Not even a teenager. "He does not even have a core."

"He is a human." A much older voice replies. She sounds like Tim's age based on vocal cords. "Humans are not meant to have cores. Despite this he is a formidable fighter. He has to be to have attracted the Great One's eye."

"Maybe not. I heard humans enjoy being cared for like children. They even call partners things like Mommy and Daddy."

"Why?" The boy Yeti sounds horrified.

"Apparently it's seen as attractive"

"That's disgusting."

Tim turns a corner cutting off the conversation as the Yetis snap to attention. They bow low at the waist as he walks by.

He nods at them, which seems to startle a lot of them. Not that he's surprised. The AL Ghuls likely treated them like decorations and never fully acknowledged them.

Tim barely hears the young boy gasp. "He's beautiful."

"That's likely why the Great One is so bestowed."

Tim sighs walking back to his room with a escape plan half formed.

Elsewhere, the rumor mill in the Ghost Zone is running over time as news of King Phantom's human husband-to-be is spread far and wide. Leaders of the Ghost Zone quickly prepare for a ball that will likely be called to celebrate the union.

They have gifts gathered, each wanting to gain favor with the King. The Far Frozen gets overwhelming requests to visit the future Consort, but seeing as King Phantom had to return to the human world, thus leaving his fiancé in their care, they reject all. They do not want the boy to be overwhelmed or caught unawares if he is not tried in any form of politics.

It would not allow him to become a threat to the King's authority's pawn.

This led to even more rumors starting.

By the time they reached John Constine- the only human who has any form of contact with the Realms- the word is that King Phantom's human was currently carrying their child, wanting to marry before the baby was born, and that he was running from a group of humans known as "The Bats."

He was as beautiful as the King Phantom was powerful- which meant he was utterly breathtaking for a human- and that King Phantom was currently in the human world hunting down those who threaten his family.

Across the dimension plane, Danny is blissfully unaware of the misunderstanding as he is busy filling out college scholarship applications. He has only one more year before he graduates, but he would like to go somewhere away from Amity Park.

The Wayne Scholarship is a long and lengthy process, but it will be worth it. A full ride with board and meals? Yes, the housing will be in Gotham but it's a small price to pay.

He wonders if his number one fan has awakened. Frostbite would have contacted him if his guest had escaped the coma.

Tim Drake had been asleep for nearly a week, only kept healthy due to Danny bathing him in his Protective Core ectoplasm and the Yeti's multi-species medical knowledge. As it were, Tim appeared to only be taking a small nap, none of the adverse effects of long slumber appearing on his thin body, but Danny was getting worried.

At this point, he didn't even care how Tim knew his secret. He just wanted him to be alright.

A flash of green light causes Danny to spring away from his laptop, body falling into a natural fighter's stance only to blink at the giant gift wrap present laying on his bed. Cautiously he inspects the gift finding it from Princess Dora.

"May your love lead the Realms into a wonderous future, and may your union bear many children." He reads the small note she had attracted to her gift "What children?"

Pulling open the gift, he stares at two sets of King robes decorated with rubies shaped into snowflakes. More miniature robes and a few booties surround the pair, obviously meant as a family gift.

Tuck to the side of the box is a long and deadly-looking sword. It's pitch black, with a scull as a handle. Dora had tired a scroll to its blade, where she had written My armies are ready to yield to you. You need only to swing this sword, and they shall come to your aid. The Bats will not harm your treasure.

What in the world?

[sunniskyies]

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 || 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐚 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: "Clarisse x reader where readers emotions control weather? If that makes sense" 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Zeus sees Percy being claimed by Poseidon as an act of war, and decides to retaliate by claiming a child of his own 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: show!Clarisse La Rue x Zeus!fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Swearing 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Smitten Clarisse ofc (>ᴗ•) ! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k 𝐀/𝐍: Thank you so much for your request, I adore this concept !! I tried my best to replicate the reader’s emotions in the weather through the story, not just after she’s claimed. I hope I did it justice !! Enjoy <3

Terrified tears are streaming down your face and your heart is pounding in your chest. The rain is pelting against the windows now, and thunderclaps seem to shake the earth.

"Dad? I don't understand, what is that thing?" You choke, staring at the pair of red headlights out the back window, censored by the sheen of rain on the glass.

Except it isn't a set of headlights. It's a pair of eyes. Red, glowing, blood-thirsty eyes.

"D/N, are we almost there?" Your mother cries, her knuckles pale as she grasps the fabric of her pants.

"Yes," he grunts, foot hard down on the accelerator. "Y/N, do you see that hill ahead? With the pine tree?"

You squint into the darkness, just about making out the landmark your father is referring to, lit up by the high beams of the car.

"Yes, Dad. But I don't underst—"

"Listen, you must get to that tree no matter what. Don't look back, don't stop. Get past that tree and you'll be okay."

A sob escapes your lips, a crackle of lightning lighting up the sky. Behind the car, the light illuminates the beast chasing the car. A truck-sized mastiff, dripping saliva from a lolling mouth adorned with yellowing teeth. A scream peals from your throat as darkness swallows it once more.

"What is that?" You wail. Before either of your adoptive parents can respond, something large slams into the back of the car.

You're sent spinning, but the Hellhound doesn't let you hit the side of the road. It immediately stops you with a paw, tearing a hole in your car.

The beast's jaws snap eagerly at you, and you scramble backwards. In the front seat, your parents are reduced to slumped, motionless silhouettes. Terrified, you fumble for the door handle behind you, falling backwards onto the concrete and feeling your skin scrape.

You struggle to your feet, jumping away as the dog's fangs tear the car into a pile of coleslaw.

"Stop!" You shriek. Another lightning bolt reveals the landscape around you, and you see the hill towering above you, the pine tree adorning it rocking around in the hurricane-force winds.

Your father's words echo in your mind as your legs pump desperately up the slick, wet grass. They'll be okay, they got out, you think when the Hellhound turns away from the shredded metal, scarlet gaze now trained on you.

You're still nowhere near the top, and now the monster is practically upon you. It runs towards you like an excited puppy, gangly legs crossing meters of distance in seconds.

You're just about to squeeze your eyelids shut and say your final prayers when an explosion of light scorches the ground in front of you, knocking you hard backwards.

You feel your head collide with something, and then it's all dark.

A faint buzz is whining in your ears.

Where am I?

Your eyelids feel glued down when you try to pry them open, and when you manage it you're met with a kaleidoscope of white sheets and plain walls.

Your vision is swimming, but you make out the figure of a girl standing in the doorway. She has dark, coily hair and an unreadable expression on her face.

"Where am I?" You croak, your throat dry and scratchy, probably from all the screaming.

But the girl doesn't respond, just turns and leaves.

Exhausted from the effort, blackness envelopes you again.

"And this here is Cabin 4, Demeter," the boy with black hair says, gesturing to the building.

You sign inwardly, body still tired and aching. In the last few hours you have woken up, been told your parents are dead, gotten told everything you thought about the world is wrong and now you are being given a very in-depth tour of 'Camp Half-Blood'.

The sky is overcast, and you wearily listen as the boy goes on.

"And here is Cabin 5, Ares—" Luke is cut off by an olive-skinned girl storming out of the cabin's door, practically colliding with you.

"Fuck— watch where you're going, idiot!" She growls. When she looks up at you, a flicker of something swims through her eyes, but is replaced promptly by a glower.

"Newbie," she snarls. Behind her, a group of kids seep out of the cabin after her. At her words, they don menacing scowls and jeer.

"She looks awful!" One laughs.

"Push her over, Clarisse!" Another crows.

Clarisse cocks an eyebrow, looking you up and down pointedly. "You guys think I should teach this runt her place?" She asks. She's responded with cheers.

You step back hesitantly. Luke sighs.

"Clarisse, I'm just doing my job. Do you have to be difficult?" He says exasperatedly.

"That's okay, Castellan. You can go now, I'll look after the newbie," she grins, stepping forward to wrap her fists in your collar. She drops you, letting your exhausted body hit the earth with a thud. "Comfy down there, Darling?"

The all-too-fresh memory of falling out of the car escaping the Hellhound resurfaces, and angry tears spring to your eyes.

Your lip curls as you look up at 'Clarisse', her smug smile towering over you.

"Listen," you spit, standing up. "I've just been attacked by an actual Hellhound. It killed my parents. I'm exhausted. I'm just trying to get through this tour so I can get to whatever stiff sleeping bag they give me and go to sleep."

The overcast sky has darkened, heavy black clouds groaning with thunder threaten to release rain.

"I don't need some tough girl who thinks she owns this—apparently—magical fucking circus to tell me 'my place.' My place is back home with my parents. That's where I belong. But they're gone, so shove off back to kindergarten and learn some manners!"

Your voice cracked at some parts, and you know tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. But the dark look on your face gets the message across.

Clarisse's eyes glimmer with that look again, a tiny thing only you can see. But for everyone else, they just see her shrug.

"Whatever, Darling. Just watch where the hell you're going, m'kay," she states, spinning on her heel and sauntering off with her band of Ares kids scurrying behind her.

You sigh, letting your tense shoulders sag. The rain clouds give a shudder and release a light drizzle. You wipe a small tear from one eye.

This is definitely the hardest day of your life.

Your feet glide over the pine needle soundlessly, a hefty Xiphos clutched in your hands.

It's been a week since your arrival at Camp Half-Blood. A week full of training, lessons and camp activities. You have found yourself rather handy with a sword, and you're even warming up to the kid in Hermes' cabin.

Ahead of you, Clarisse La Rue and her band of sheeple are wandering back towards their flag. You're stealthily following them, the chocolate-eyed girl none the wiser.

The sky is bright and blue, flocks of cheerful clouds frolicking around on the sweet summer winds. You feel a thrill of joy pass through you. It's a beautiful day, you've finally settled in, and you are about to beat that bully La Rue.

Well, you would have if, in your excitement, you hadn't carelessly stepped on a twig.

Gods, didn't that only happen in the movies? You wince as the pack of Ares kids whip around, spears and swords brandished.

"You!" Clarisse says when she sees you. "Trying to find our flag, are you?"

She smirks, stalking forward. You step back slightly, heart pounding. Yes, you are quite good with a sword now, but you are no match for Clarisse. Even you can admit that.

She leans in close. "You should know better," she says, her voice honeyed.

A couple of her teammates move forward, teeth gleaming and swords hungry for skin. Clarisse's eyes flash, and she holds up a hand.

"No, go on to the flag. I'll deal with her," she orders. Some of the kids look doubtful, so Clarisse gives you a shove for emphasis. "I'll deal with her."

Reluctantly, the kids peter out. Turning back to you, Clarisse holds your gaze for a moment, before shaking her head with a scoff. But there isn't much venom in it.

"Just stay out of it, newbie," she grunts, swinging her spear leisurely over one shoulder and turning to leave.

You frown in disbelief. "That's it?"

Clarisse pauses, looking at you over one shoulder. "What, do you want a fight, Darling? Because we both know that would just end up with you in the infirmary."

You tilt your head, observing the brown-haired girl. "No, not at all. You're just... not what I thought."

Clarisse scoffs again, but there is even less malice in it. You think you must be imagining the warm glow around her cheekbones.

"Just, stay out of it," she mutters, turning and jogging off into the trees.

You stare after her, cheek tingling where her breath had brushed it.

Of course, you didn't stay out of it. You had followed after her, the girl too flustered to notice you slipping in and sneaking off with the flag.

After your win, the whole camp accepted you fully. Ares still shoots you glares, but no one has dared push you over again.

And yet, no God or Goddess has claimed you. Many campers are after a week or two, but it has been months and still not a sign.

"She's too smart for an Ares," someone guesses.

"But she's too tough for Athena," another had argued.

"What about Apollo? She's alright with a bow."

"Definitely not, have you heard her sing in the shower block?" Someone laughs.

"I mean, that would explain why Apollo hasn't claimed her!"

Every day begins to feel worse than the last, every time you prove yourself worthy you are rewarded with nothing. Even the weather seems to agree, the sky gradually getting gloomier and wetter. Campers have been grumbling about this being the 'bleakest summer ever.'

The only spark in your life, unbelievably, is a certain fiery girl from Cabin 5.

You've been entertaining yourself by trying to worm your way into the stony warrior's heart, your suspicions about her proving correct with every blush and scoff you are gifted with when you manage to sneak through a crack.

The clouds seem to part, letting a beam of rare sunlight through, whenever you're with her. When you're without her, you find your hands itching to touch her, a playful shove or a flick.

A few shoves and flicks later, you find yourself standing in the middle of the training Arena, clad in sweaty bronze armor being asked out by a flushed Clarisse La Rue.

A warm trickle of sunlight sinks into the space between you, both panting from the private spar you were in moments before. You can see every freckle, every dark eyelash on her face.

"Go out with you?" You breathe, lowering your sword from where it was raised. "Like, with you?"

Clarisse scoffs —her nervous habit, you've found— and removes her helmet, resting it on her hip. "Yes, with me, Darling. But if you're already set on Castellan, lift that sword again and we can forget about this—"

"Fuck Castellan, of course I'll go out with you!" You cry, letting your weapon clatter to the ground and wrapping your metallic arms around her.

You don't know what the other campers meant when they called it the 'bleakest summer ever.' All you know now is sunshine and blue-sky days, days filled with summery winds and strawberry picking and secret dates with your tough girl. You hardly ever think about your unclaimed status anymore, too in love to care. You can't even remember before Clarisse.

She's awfully protective of you, always standing up to anyone who tries to push you around. You did wish she wouldn't pick on the newbies, though.

"Clari, he's only 12! Give him a break," you protest. You're sprawled out in Clarisse's sheets as she sits on the end of the bed polishing her spear for Capture the Flag that afternoon.

"Nope. I hate liars," she states simply.

You roll your eyes. Always so stubborn. "Clarisse, he's barely put his foot in the door. Let the kid adjust."

Clarisse shakes her head. "No! He lied about killing the minotaur, he soaked me and my friends—" you snort "—and now he's walking around here like he's better than me! I ought to show that runt—"

You've sat up and pressed a kiss to her lips. Clarisse falters, flustered from the touch. For a girl who isn't afraid of anything, you've found her to be very timid when it comes to affection.

"No one's better than you, Clari," you murmur. Her face sets ablaze. "But, you don't have to prove that, we already know it."

Clarisse hums thoughtfully, leading into your touch for a moment. Then she springs up abruptly, leaving your lips cold. "Sorry, no can do. Reputation and all that. See you in battle, Darling!"

You flop back down onto the bed with a groan as she eagerly sprints off. That's right, you're on the opposite side.

"You really think he's the one, Annabeth?" You whisper to the patch of air beside you. You're crouched behind a bush watching the 12-year-old arch nemesis of your girlfriend dozing on a log after a very strenuous afternoon of dancing and playing with geckos.

"Yes," the patch of air replies. You sigh, shifting uncomfortably. You can't believe you let Annabeth rope you into this.

"Can we please go help Luke and Chris? I'm sure Percy can look after himself," you mutter. "And I'm bored!"

"Well, you won't be bored for much longer," invisible Annabeth says.

You turn back to Percy to see none other than your girlfriend stalking towards him brandishing her red-hot spear. Of course, you groan internally. She does look really good in those camo pants, though.

When the Ares pack start chasing the boy, you're about to step out of your hiding spot, but Annabeth's arm stops you.

"Not yet," she orders.

You may not be as formidable as Clarisse, but you are far from puny. You let her protect you because that's Clarisse's love language. But you can handle yourself perfectly well, one stormy glare of yours can send a camper fleeing for the hills. On top of that, you hate being ordered around, especially from a child.

But you listen, because you're reluctant to be as stubborn as your girlfriend. So you stay expertly hidden as you and Annabeth follow the pack down to the lake. But a flash of anger shoots through you when you see the young boy knocked to the floor.

"Sorry, Annabeth," you grunt, stepping out onto the gravel. "Clarisse! Leave him alone!"

Clarisse doesn't stop her tussle, just glancing over at you. "Stay out of it, Darling."

"You always say that," you growl, picking off one of the Ares kids and combatting him with your sword, and you quickly have him disarmed and on the ground. Suddenly, your head shoots up when you hear a bloodcurdling scream.

"Clari!" You cry, stomach clenching when you see the severed spear in her hands. Her gift from her father.

"Clari, stop. He's not worth it," you plead, running up to her when she hefts the scrawny boy into the air. Your arms wrap around her waist, and you guide a fuming Clarisse back towards the cabins. Percy will be okay, Annabeth will look after him.

Well. You thought she would, but you turn towards a 'splash' to see that the girl has pushed Percy into the lake.

"What the hell, Annabeth!" You begin to call over, but the words dry up when you see his bloody wounds knitting themselves over. Your jaw drops open when you realize what that means moments before the trident appears above the boy's head.

Poseidon, Poseidon, the Big Three, Poseidon, you hear kids all around you whispering. The poor boy looks shell-shocked.

"Fuck that kid," Clarisse says disbelievingly. You rub your hand on her back, once again leading her to the cabins.

"It's okay, Clari. He's just going to get slaughtered by Hades' monsters now, you know they're on the brink of war. You don't have to trouble yourself any—"

You falter when Clarisse stops walking, a look of horror in her eyes. You frown and look around confused when the rest of the Blue Team start staring at you too.

"What?" You ask, following the gaping camper's gaze to the space above your head.

The wind is knocked from your body. Above your head, an icy-white lightning bolt marks you. Daughter of Zeus.

Your insides churn—you're not an idiot, you know what this means. Zeus has seen Percy being claimed as an act of war and decides to retaliate by finally acknowledging his daughter.

The stares, the whispers, the complications, it all stirs in your gut like a hurricane. In the sky, a storm cloud has begun brewing and crackles with lightning.

"Stop staring!" You cry at your teammates, a bright lightning bolt lighting up the sky. Tears well in your eyes, and rain begins to pelt down on the gravelly shore.

When the campers don't move, you shoot them one of your deadly glares. "Scram!" You growl, the following grumble of thunder making them scatter. Only Clarisse stays.

"Don't you understand?" You sob to her, rain mixing with the tears on your cheeks. "He doesn't care about me. He hasn't cared about me for months! I'm just a bargaining chip to him, a plaything to through at his stupid brother!"

You turn to storm off, and the sky growls at you. "Is this me, too? Am I doing this?" You shout, gesturing manically at the sky. Clarisse crosses over to you.

"Screw Hades, screw Poseidon, screw the lot of them!" Clarisse hisses, grabbing your hands to stop you from leaving. "Zeus doesn't deserve you, Darling. Don't let him use you, don't give him the satisfaction."

You sniff, the rain softening to a shower. "I don't want to be like this," you croak, your foreheads touching as you look at your intertwined hands. Tiny sparks are erupting at the contact.

"I don't know, Sparky. It's pretty cool," Clarisse grins.

You laugh, the tension easing from your body. The dark clouds in the sky above blow away. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Why should I let them control me? I'll just explode them if they try."

Clarisse grins, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face and kissing you on the side of your mouth. "That's the spirit, Sparky."

( 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 !! )

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[fluffylino]

boypussy!hyunjin pt 2

eating your pretty boyfriend out while he's asleep~

-contains mature themes.

the boy looked so surreal. his chest rising and falling so naturally. hyunjin was so deep in sleep, he had not even woken up at the sound of the bathroom door creaking open as you came out.

it was still dark. you looked outside. it was raining heavily. lightning and thunder lighting up the sky every few minutes. rain in november? well that was new. maybe winter was finally setting in.

you squinted, trying to read the time on the clock.

6.45 am

no wonder it was still dark. the temperature had dropped. you were feeling colder than usual.

you leaned against the windowsill, enjoying the fresh smell of mud and the sound of rain.

hyunjin was so out. he had a tough day before. dancing and reviewing his steps till he finally couldn't. you pitied him. he was all bundled up in the sheets, his white tshirt crinkled up.

just as you were about to lie back down beside him, you froze. was he whimpering?

"oh my poor hyunjinnie" you whispered to yourself. you brushed his messy hair out of his face, a smile blossoming on your face.

"should i give you a nice reward?" you said, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

he didn't move, clearly still asleep.

you pulled his pants down slowly, noticing the wet patch on his underwear.

"oh so you're wearing the new panties i bought you" your heart swelled. the pretty little yellow bow, matched him so well. you remembered how he kept saying he wouldn't wear it and would prefer wearing his boxers.

you couldn't help it as you pressed your nose against his heat, inhaling deeply, at his scent.

you slid the piece of clothing off, just enough. his cunt exposed. puffy. leaking. begging to be played with.

"you have such a pretty pussy, hyunjinnie" you mumbled. deep down wishing yours looked as beautiful. everything about him was perfect. from his personality to here. your sleepiness temporary leaving you.

poking and prodding at his swollen lips. you could make out the way his muscles clenched and spasmed.

waiting. waiting to be touched.

you ran your tongue against him, all the way up to his clit. his wetness coating your tastebuds.

fuck he was delicious. you sucked on his clit, getting surprised when he began to stir in his sleep.

a whine leaving him. had he woken up? for a second you looked up, realising he was still fast asleep. mouth slightly parted.

you blew on his pussy, loving the way the boy let out another sound. you slipped your tongue into him, moaning at how hot he was. essence leaking out of him in copious amounts. shit you had never seen him so wet. he was dripping down onto the sheets. you slurped it up. not caring at how loud you were being.

"m-mommy ahh-" his morning voice startled you. his voice starting out deep until it turned whiny and breathy as you moved your tongue inside of him. fucking him good. you lifted your head.

"mommy?" you repeated after him in surprise.

"what happened to you wanting to be dominant?" hyunjin hid his face in the blanket covering him. eyes barely open.

"that was when you had a dick hm? when you have a pussy then its mommy who has to take care of you" you teased.

however he was too precious. you couldn't tease him anymore. he was your precious baby. all he wanted was you filling him up. letting you use his cunt for whatever you wanted.

"uhhgh mm-mh" strangled pleas leaving him. it made your stomach do summersalts.

hyunjin was so sensitive in this state. even more so, since he was asleep not even a few minutes ago. a high pitched moan echoed throughout the room when you shoved his legs apart, a cold breeze happening to blow in at the right moment.

he shivered. voice getting stuck in his throat.

"mommy's gonna eat you out. go back to sleep honey"

you waited for him to respond. yet he didn't. you slapped his cunt. hyunjin wailed, trying to move away from you and your dangerous touch.

"hng-nngh a-aah" he moaned out, trying to close his legs around your head when you began to rub his clit in circular motions, all while you shoved your tongue up his pussy.

he was panting, mouth parted and eyes shut.

for some reason your mind went back to when he had made you get on your knees for him. fucking your mouth like you were his toy. it was a stark contrast to what was happening now. you whined. you wanted him in you. you wanted him to fuck you and fill you to the brim. it had been 4 days.

4 whole days since he had magically got a pussy.

you'd never forget this. you could feel him everywhere. you could smell him over the rain. you could taste him.

"i promise ill g-give it all back to you, my love" he let out, quietly

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter Four (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: angst, verbal fighting, feelings of loneliness, general sadness, fluff, parental issues, 2.1k words

a/n: sheesh. that's all i gotta say

the last ride masterlist

For the first time in my life, my alarm wakes me up on my birthday. Instead of forcing myself to get up quickly how I’ve trained myself to, I allow myself a few moments to stare up at the ceiling, dreading the lack of notifications on my phone.

My dad had sent out a quick and haphazard message the night before, not even waiting until midnight, and I’m under no delusion that anyone else cares enough to call.

Sighing, I push myself up out of the bed and head to the shower, longing for the chance to have some part of me feel brand new.

When I’m out and dressed, I stare in the mirror for an embarrassing amount of time. I turn my face from side to side, smoothing my fingertips over nonexistent wrinkles and laugh lines that should be deeper. Every year, I hope that I’ll look into my reflection and see someone different. I cross my fingers for a version of myself that feels wiser, kinder, and more comfortable in her skin. But standing here now, freshly nineteen, the only thing I see is a girl who’s running out of time.

****************************

After a very uneventful breakfast, I head out to meet Chris to help with the fence repairs. I’m hoping he’s in the mood to take it easy on me today but of course, he’s feeling the opposite.

From the moment I hop in the pickup truck, he’s throwing task after task at me. By the time the sun is high in the sky, I’m exhausted and defeated. But when I lean against the wall for a second, Chris happens to come around the corner, scowling. “We ain’t got time to lay around today, Scotch. We’re behind on yields.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Go take some hay out to the boys at the stables. Take the pickup truck and I’ll have someone drop me around there in a second.” He cuts in, tossing me the keys and walking away before I can respond.

I grit my teeth to keep from throwing curses at his back and do what he said, motivated by excitement to visit the horses.

When I walk in, all I see is chaos. Cinnamon’s got a mean grip on some poor guy’s shirt and is refusing to release him.

“Let me go, you mean old bastard!” The boy howls. Why he doesn’t just take his shirt off and charge it as a loss? I don’t know.

Another worker brandishes a whip to scare her into letting go but Cinnamon doesn’t even flinch. My kind of woman.

Despite how entertained I am, I decide to intervene, hoping my girl still has a soft spot for me. Cautiously, I approach and coo for her attention. She seems to physically relax at the sight of me so I reach out and stroke the side of her face until she releases him. When she does, I reach down for her treats and feed her some, offering praise. “Good girl. What’d that bad man do to you? Huh?”

“I ain’t do a thing to that monster!” He wails, scrambling up from where he fell when she let him go. I ignore his whining and tell the boys about the hay before turning my attention back to Cinnamon. I notice she’s still wearing her head collar, which is probably what he was trying to remove, so I take it off for her and she neighs in satisfaction.

Someone clears their throat behind me and I groan internally, knowing who it is before I even turn.

“Did you not hear me when I said we had a busy day?” Chris asks, his voice rough with irritation. I sigh before giving him a brief explanation, even though I know he won’t care.

He doesn’t say anything for a second but then walks over, his voice softening slightly. “Alright. Go help them unload before I dock your pay.”

****************************

When it’s time for lunch, we do what’s become our custom and sit together in the bed of the truck to eat. Sometimes the other ranch hands join us, crowding around and telling inside jokes, but most days it’s just the two of us.

Today, we eat in comfortable silence, my mind too full of self-pitying sadness to conjure up conversation. Chris nudges me with his shoulder and I look over. “What’s up with you today? Missing on the mall?”

I roll my eyes at his joke, the small barb cutting me more than it would any other day. “I’m sick of you acting like it’s impossible for me to have any depth.”

He laughs, not picking up on my tone. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re as deep as an autumn puddle, darlin’.

Anger pours over me like a cold shower and I slide off the truck, packing up my trash. “Fuck you, Chris.”

“Whoa.” He says, eyes widening. “Relax. It was a joke.”

“Was it?” I ask glaring.

“I mean…” He sighs and takes off his hat to scratch his head. “I’m just sayin’. You’ve had it easy. Perfect parents who gave you the perfect life. Not all of us have it that good.”

It’s my turn to laugh at the audacity he has to make statements like that about my life. “You know what, Chris? You’re right. I’ve been privileged. I’ve been lucky. But what do you know about my life? What’s so perfect about it? Is it the friends that couldn’t care less about me? My parents? You mean the woman who ran out on us when I was ten? Have you ever spent your birthday waiting on the stairs for your mother to come back because you convinced yourself she wouldn’t miss it?”

I scoff in disgust, despising the sympathetic look on his face. “Or did you mean my dad? The one who spent my entire life throwing gifts at me and then punished me for being who he raised me to be? So fucking perfect. Thanks for pointing that out.”

Chris opens and shuts his mouth twice, finally speechless. He reaches out a hand as if to pull into him. “Scotch-”

I back away so he can’t touch me. “Save it. God. You are so self-righteous about who you think I am. But all you’ve done since I got here is pretend you know everything about me.”

I storm off, spotting my uncle and asking him if I could work under him instead today.

“Did you talk to Chris about it?” He asks hesitantly, looking over my shoulder at him. I nod quickly and he raises an eyebrow, clearly seeing through me. But at the look of desperation on my face, he caves and points me towards the goats.

****************************

When Aunt Birdie calls me for dinner, I’m tempted to tell her I’m not hungry but I know she will insist. I didn’t even stop to speak to her when I got off this afternoon, just ran into my room and sunk into a bath.

I step into the kitchen with my eyes low so it’s a genuine shock when they yell out “Happy birthday”. My eyes are full of wonder when Aunt Birdie comes over with a beautiful jumbo cupcake from the local bakery. She’s placed a “19” candle in the center and hands me a lighter to make a wish.

I think about it for a second. “Can I maybe save it for later?”

“Of course, bunny. It’s your birthday. You make the rules.” Aunt Birdie answers sweetly, pushing my hair out of my face.

I look down at the cupcake again, my eyes getting teary. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“Oh, honey. Like your dad would ever let us forget. ‘Sides, ain’t a year passed since you’ve been on this earth that I ain’t mailed you out a card.” Uncle Buck chimes in.

And it’s all I have not to shatter into a million pieces on the floor.

****************************

That night I sit crisscrossed in my bed thinking over my wish. The lamplight tinges the room yellow and it just makes me sadder.

I pick up the lighter, my hands shaking as I spark it. I close my eyes, feeling childish but not willing to risk wasting my wish.

“I wish to never feel this alone again.” I whisper, my voice quivering before I blow out the fire. As soon as I do, whatever was keeping me together inside snaps and I fall apart.

I put the cupcake on the nightstand and curl around myself, sobbing until I shake into my pillow. I stay like that until I feel like there are no tears left in my body until the sobs turn to sniffling hiccups.

Just as I start to calm down I hear a sharp knock on my window and sit up. I wipe my face quickly and peer out, staying far back in case I have to yell for my uncle.

“It’s me.” A voice calls and I step closer on instinct. Chris is kneeling in the grass outside my window, his face pressed close to the glass.

Confused, I unlatch the window and slide it up, going to my knees so we can be at eye level. He leans his head into my room, his hair covered by a new trucker hat and a gold chain dangling from his neck.

I look down at my pajamas and cringe. He would come to my window on washday. My eyes must be bloodshot from the way I just cried but Chris doesn’t comment. He just crosses his arms on the windowsill, looking past me into the room.

“You decorated.” He notes with a small smile, nodding at the new rug and bedspread. I’d hardly call it interior design.

“Well, you know me. Too shallow to leave well enough alone.” I answer bitterly, bracing a hand against the wall.

Chris’ face drops at this and he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that… I owe you an apology. It was a cheap shot even without knowing the whole story.”

“Mhm.” I agree, still a bit too petty to accept his apology. The silence between us becomes a bit awkward for a second before I speak. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Is that really how you see me? Just a surface level city broad?” I ask quietly after a beat and my heart hammers when he hesitates.

“Do you want me to be honest?” He asks cautiously, using the same tone he approaches the bulls with. I nod, despite not knowing whether it’s the truth.

Chris turns his trucker hat backward, giving me a good look in his eyes and studying me before he answers. “I did at first. Now I reckon that’s just what you want everyone to think.”

His statement settles over me like the shine from a spotlight. But for once it doesn’t feel like an accusation.

“Anyway,” He starts, leaning back and picking up something from where it lays at his feet. “A little Birdie told me it was your birthday.”

Surprise must be all over my face because he grins from ear to ear as he hands me a wrapped rectangular box. I peel the paper off slowly, still in shock that he thought to get me anything and gasp when I see its shoes. Chris clears his throat like he’s nervous and I look back up at him. “Evie told me you liked hers so I just thought…” He trails off, picking at the paint on the windowsill.

I fling off the top excitedly and pull out the boots. They are gorgeous, almost an exact match to Evie’s except brown with a cut out of some flower along the side instead of a name.

“What flower is this?” I ask as I run my finger over the leather in wonder.

“Waterlilies. It’s your birth flower.” Chris answers before adding a low and embarrassed. “If you don’t like ‘em, it’s cool. I know it probably ain’t your style-”

I cut him off with a hug, wrapping my arms tight around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder. “Thank you, Chris. This means a lot.”

He freezes up at first but slowly returns my hug, pulling me closer. “Don’t mention it, Scotch.”

I finally pull away and wipe at my face, cursing myself for being so emotional today. Chris gives me a lopsided smile before he taps the window once and sighs. “I gotta get home. Get some sleep. We���ve got horses tomorrow.”

I grin back at him and nod, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “Okay. Goodnight, boss.”

When he’s gone, I pull the window back down and lock it before looking back down at the boots. I place them on my shoe rack, tossing a pair of my Ricks to the side to make room. I stare at them for a long while, the swirling feeling in my chest growing until I finally make myself go to sleep. And when I dream, it’s of fields of waterlilies.

🏷️/ @xoxo4chrisss @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo

[myfavoritesstuff]

No Regrets

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Prompt: Alastor making the wrong deal.

Warning(s): Manipulation

Note: Alastor never made a deal with Lilith in this.

Word count: 634

In the sprawling depths of the hellish realm, where darkness reigned supreme, there stood Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon. With his charismatic smile and sinister charm, he ruled over the damned souls with an iron grip. Yet, amidst the cacophony of screams and tormented wails, there was an emptiness in his heart—a void that no amount of power or control could fill.

One fateful night, as the crimson moon hung low in the sky, Alastor’s path crossed with yours. You, a lowly demon caught in the throes of hell, caught his attention like no other. Your defiance against the horrors of the underworld intrigued him, and soon enough, he found himself captivated by your spirit.

As days turned into nights, and nights into eternities, Alastor found himself falling deeply, hopelessly in love with you. He watched from the shadows as you navigated the dangers of hell, your strength and resilience shining like a beacon in the darkness.

One evening, as the flames of hell danced around you, Alastor approached with a proposition that would bind your souls together for eternity. “My dear,” he purred, his voice a melody of temptation, “let us give our souls to each other, completing the experience of love in its truest form.”

You, caught in the throes of love and longing, gazed into his crimson eyes and nodded, the fire of determination burning bright within you.

With a flourish of his hand, Alastor offered his soul to you, a swirling mass of darkness and power. The moment it touched your being, a rush of exhilaration swept through you, and a sinister smile tugged at your lips.

Alastor’s heart skipped a beat as he noticed the change in your demeanor, a flicker of fear mingling with the love that still burned fiercely within him.

“My sweet Alastor,” you whispered, your voice laced with newfound power, “from this moment forth, you are mine.”

With those words, you held his soul in your grasp, twisting and molding it to your will. Alastor, bound by love and now by your command, could do nothing but obey.

Yet, even as you held him under your control, Alastor’s love for you burned brighter than ever before. He danced to your tune, a willing puppet in your hands, his heart singing with a love that knew no bounds.

As the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, the bond between Alastor and the reader grew ever stronger, though it was now a twisted, dark thread that bound them together. Alastor, once the feared and powerful Radio Demon, now found himself at the mercy of the reader’s every whim.

Under the reader’s command, Alastor used his powers to wreak havoc upon the denizens of hell, his once cheerful demeanor now twisted into a sinister grin. Yet, through it all, his love for the reader remained unyielding, a constant flame burning in the darkness of his soul.

The reader, now possessed of Alastor’s soul, reveled in their newfound power. They commanded legions of demons and tormented souls, their laughter echoing through the halls of hell. Yet, instead of regret or sadness, the reader felt a surge of euphoria at the power they now held.

One night, as the crimson moon hung low in the sky, the reader found themselves alone with Alastor in the depths of their shared domain. The air crackled with tension as they stood face to face, the weight of their twisted love hanging heavy between them.

“Alastor,” the reader whispered, their voice a haunting melody in the darkness, “do you regret giving me your soul?”

Alastor’s eyes, once filled with love and adoration, now held a glimmer of sadness. “Never, my dear,” he replied, his voice a soft murmur. “Though I am now bound to your will, my love for you remains unchanged.”

[starneteyam]

TEACH ME ★

🖇️ Neteyam x Omaticaya! fem! reader

🖇️ warn. SPICY ASF, tension, no smut

🕯️In which you are Neteyam’s childhood best friend, and because you trust him the most, you ask him to teach you how to kiss

A/N I LOVE TENSION. Ending kind of ass bcs I was gonna write more but it got too long

Neteyam has been by your side ever since you could remember. He was glued to your hip, and you don’t remember a second he wasn’t there when you needed help. When the sky people came and burned down your homes, again, he was suddenly there, forcing you to get up and leave while you wailed out cries in his arms.

He was there to teach you how to hunt, as your father, former Olo’eyktan, was killed in the great battle against the Sky People many years ago. You trusted him with all your heart, and he was there to help you, always.

Which is why you expected his help again, but this time, your request was much more… intimate. You knew he had more experience than you. He had a girlfriend before, for a short while, but he broke up with you for reasons he didn’t tell you.

You didn’t care, his girlfriend was mean, anyways. You sat on a tree next to Neteyam, laughing about things that didn’t matter as you made a beaded necklace.

Your laughter quieted as you bit your lip. You were nervous to ask him, and you couldn’t quite figure out why. You opened your mouth, but the words died on your tongue. Neteyam noticed, and turned to you. “What is wrong?” He asked, hand on your arm.

You laughed nervously, swinging your feet gently. You then turned to him, face suddenly serious that is surprised him. “Neteyam, I must ask you a favor.” You said quietly. The two of you were alone, but still, you were afraid somebody could hear — maybe Eywa.

He furrowed his eyebrows, frowning as he nodded, serious as you. He was concerned. You then became shy, turning your head to the side. “Can you teach me how to… kiss?” He leaned away, eyes wide in surprise.

You looked at him, worried, and opened your mouth to tell him that he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, but you were cut off by his laugh. “That’s it?” He laughed, relieved. You couldn’t help but smile too after seeing his.

“Yes- Yes, I can teach you. But why do you want to learn?” He asked, eyes avoiding yours as he smiled nervously. You didn’t know it because you were a big airhead, but he had the biggest crush on you since forever.

Lo’ak knew it, Kiri knew it—hell, even Tuk knew it. “I am almost of age to be chosen by a man and mate before Eywa. But I have never even held a man’s hand?” You whisper shouted, embarrassed as you buried your face into your hand.

Neteyam sighed, grabbing your hand from your face. He was just glad that it wasn’t because you liked somebody—somebody other than him. “Alright, then. Face towards me.” He instructed you, and you cleared your throat as you looked at him.

“Okay, first thing’s first. Try not to breathe through you nose.” He told you, pointing at his own. You nodded as you straightened you posture. “And, you have to- you kind of- ugh.” He groaned, finding it much harder to explain in words.

“Just copy me.” He said, giving up. His eyes searched your face, his hand sneaking to cup the side of your face. His breath hitched as he looked at you.

You were looking up at him with those doe eyes expectantly, and your face fit perfectly into his palm. “Close your eyes.” He whispered as he leaned in, and you did as told, waiting for anything.

You felt his lips on yours. It was a soft, short kiss. Your lip was between his, and your heart burned at the feeling. He was gentle, treating you as if you were glass. “Tilt your head.” He told you in a hushed tone between his kiss, his words almost slurred as he rushed to kiss you once more.

You tilted your head, and he pushed his lips harder against yours. His hands brushed down your body, before resting on your hips. Your body automatically moved, now on your knees, head tilted downwards as you cupped both sides of his face and pressed your body against his.

You kneeled between his legs, the kisses getting more intense and turning from an innocent kiss to an intense make out. You felt yourself getting lost into your feelings, forgetting why you were kissing him in the first place. He hungrily kissed you, swallowing your hitched breaths as his fingers teased your skin.

As you pushed your weight on him, he almost fell back as he supported himself against the fat branch, snapping out of it as he pulled away, chest heaving. The air filled with sound of your outrun breaths and his.

He let out a laugh. “You don’t need practice at all.” He told you, looking up at you and restraining himself from taking it any further, although he wanted to; he wanted to so bad. You looked down at him with hazed eyes and plump lips that made you so damn attractive, his nails digging into the bark as he stopped himself from smashing his lips on yours once more.

You let out a breathy laugh, happy, though you didn’t know about what. “Neteyam? Where are you?” The two of you heard a groan from under you, and you and Neteyam looked at each other, laughing.

You got off him, turning you back towards Neteyam and looked down at the person calling for him. Neteyam let out a silent breath as you finally looked away, his tail waving wildly as he recalled what just happened, his fingers brushing against his lips. God, you were so perfect.

“Lo‘ak! We are up here! We will be there in a second!” You called down to him, and he waved his arm. You looked back at Neteyam, and he quickly recollected himself and made himself seem nonchalant.

“Come, they are looking for us.” You said to him, before climbing down the tree. You laughed silently to yourself as you climbed down the tree, jumping on the grass. You giggled as you remembered the way he stole your breaths in between kisses, or the way his fingers brushed against the curve of your waist.

Lo’ak looked at you, judging you with his eyes. “Ew, what’s up with you?” To which you rolled your eyes at, purposefully hitting him with your tail. “It is none of your business.” You hissed, crossing your arms as you shuddered, feeling yourself smiling as you thought of Neteyam again. Perhaps, there’s something there that wasn’t there before.

[ilys00ga]

𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

[my-writings-and-musings]

So Tumblr is barely functional as usual and wouldn't let me edit an ask and deleted it instead : )

Here's a response the dear anon that asked; "Anon here asking (respectfully begging) for more soundwave content. Can We have a continuation of mama reader? I am fully invested.

Bots being parents to tiny babies keeps my world going round so you absolutely can, dear anon. Continuation of this.

The bunker was far enough underground that day and night didn't really matter, but some part of you still new it was late when you were startled awake, your exhausted body gaining a burst of energy when you instinctively recognized what had awoken you.

Soft cries compelled you to move across the bed despite lingering pain, a powerful instinct giving you strength as you looked into the little bassinet that attached to the side of your mattress and found a squirming newborn Cybertronian. Despite being mere hours old, the little one had managed to kick off all his blankets, leaving him quite upset despite having caused the issue for himself. A rounded visor brightened when you came into view, his cries pausing with a hiccup as he recognized you on instinct. Tiny servos lifted to the sky and his needy cries started again. You smiled as you fulfilled his request and pulled him to your chest.

Just as you managed to lay on your side and get somewhat settled, the door to your shared bedroom opened and closed in a flash, a bright red visor stepping through the darkness.

"Is he alright?" Soundwave asked quietly, approaching with careful footsteps. Your son had ceased his squirms and quieted his cries, but his sounds of distress continued, tiny face scrunching unhappily as his sire kneeled on the berth beside you.

"Mhmm, just fussy, but he did kick off all his blankets." you explained, trying not to yawn. Your body was begging for rest, but you couldn't bring yourself to sleep while your little one needed you. Just having his tiny helm snuggled into the crook of your neck made you want to stay up with him forever. "I think he just wants me to hold him for a while."

Soundwave didn't look entirely convinced. Laying his much longer frame down beside you, he replied in a firm but gentle voice. "You need rest."

"I'll be fine." you answered quickly. You knew he was telling the truth, and your body wanted to comply, but you couldn't just let him go. Something deep had awakened within you when the sparkling had been born, and you were still adjusting. Even now, as his little digits grabbed a firm hold on your pajamas and his warm vents ruffled your hair, you knew you'd die for him without hesitation. Soundwave seemed to understand in his own way, but he was no less insistent for your sake.

"Correction; you'll be fine if you rest." he persisted, subtly tucking you in. The gentle touch of his digits did wonders for your lingering anxiety, and though a part of you still wanted to resist, you had no trouble handing over the mostly settled newborn when his sire offered his servos. Handing him over, you only heard a tiny sound of surprise before the sparkling settled once more, cozy as could be in the mech's careful grasp. "I'll figure out what woke him up."

"He's not hungry..." you offered with a yawn, keeping an eye on them both as you laid your head down on a pillow. You'd already started to learn what each particular type of cry was meant to communicate, and the one that had awoken you was more like the fearful wails he'd made upon entering the world, making you wonder what might have frightened him in the safety of his crib. Sleep clouded your brain and prevented the formation of any sensible theories. Thankfully, Soundwave had more energy to focus on the problem, his visor pulsing faintly in thought as he looked over the bundle in his cupped palm.

With his spare servo, he tenderly traced the rounded helm resting against his thumb, contemplating something you couldn't know until he finally spoke up. "Sensitive audials..." he noted at last, digits lingering as he took a second to observe and ponder the feature he'd given his son. Realizing he'd drifted off, the mech moved a bit more swiftly upon catching himself, looking to the ceiling so his expression couldn't betray him. "The ventilation system is quite loud upon activation. It must have startled him. Solution; resonance dampeners."

"That sounds like a good idea. We can get the nursery soundproofed before he moves in..." you said with a nod, already drifting off. Thoughts blurred as sleep came for you at last, your body dimly aware of the blankets being adjusted once more before warm digits stroked your cheek. You had just enough strength to open your eyes and meet Soundwave's scarlet visor.

"I can handle that, and this." he said in a final, tender insistence. Knowing that everything would be taken care of made it much easier to drift off. The last thing you saw before closing your eyes was the form of your son snoozing soundly in his sire's palm, a loving voice rumbling in your ears as you complied and prepared to dream of all that might be ahead. "Sleep, please. For both of us."

[mi-i-zori]

Among the Ice of Her Thoughts

CoD Viking!AU (Not Mine) - Viking!Soap x Healer!Reader

DISCLAIMER : Just a little something I wrote a while ago for @ghouljams ‘ Viking!AU. I just recently tweaked it a little. Healer!Reader is Ghoul’s character, not mine. I will write something for my own Viking!AU, but it will of course be very different from theirs. Please go check their work, it’s absolutely amazing !

WARNINGS : None.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

When she finally comes back from the realm of dreams, Dag’s chariot is already high in the sky, and the sun is peaking through the fabrics of her tent.

She finds tearing her limbs from their lethargic state to be no easy task. Her muscles are begging for a few more minutes of rest ; hours, even. They pull and wail along with her every move, the creaking of her joints echoing within their walls. She could indulge them - the Gods know how many times she decided to follow her needs, going back to sleep when she was supposed to start her day. But she is not tired enough to succumb to sleep anymore ; especially not when a choir of unfamiliar voices echo from the outside of the so-called « sanctuary » she was given a few hours earlier. To her, this assortment of fabrics and furs is no safe haven, especially not when she jumps so violently every time they start dancing with the wind. Still, she is in no position to complain : not only was she given permission to use this tent as hers even though it originally belongs to the one who brought her here, but the warriors roaming the campsite also respect the boundaries this shelter was made to provide, allowing her to hide from their curious eyes.

A part of her wishes she could stay under the covers and ignore her surroundings, act as if this is was nothing more than a dream. Yet she forces herself out of their warmth, the morning breeze leaving a trail of shivering kisses along her skin.

She barely has the time to put her heavy coat on that the sun suddenly sculpts a broad silhouette on the outside of the furs. It moves silently, with the confidence of a warrior, and her whole body tenses as the man stops before the entrance of her tent. He hovers for a second as she stands frozen in place, her breathing so low even she can barely feel it in her chest.

- Vænn ? You awake ?

It’s MacTavish, she realises, his deep timbre sending a wave of warmth down her spine ; a stark contrast to the violent shivers the sound of the nickname he gave her send crawling down her spine. Despite knowing that he is unable to see her, she can’t bring herself to move. Swallowing the knot tightening in her throat, she graces him with a hum, although it comes out much weaker than she originally intended.

- ‘Am about to go gather some wood. Wanna come with me ?

His tone is low, careful ; not unlike the kind one would use to coax a terrified little creature out of its shell. She can’t really decide if she likes the idea or not. In her eyes, this behaviour of his is way too human for a man like him, cursing the flame that sways in her chest at the prospect of accepting his offer. Her satchel lies against the wooden post standing in the middle of the tent, it’s empty stomach catching her gaze. It could be a good opportunity to gather some herbs for her decoctions, she thinks, and the rational part of her soul lights up at the idea of potentially being useful to her captors. MacTavish’s words from the day before echo in her mind.

Say yes next time someone asks if you’re a healer. You’ll live longer.

- Give me a minute, she finally says, the words grating against her tongue. Please.

- Gotcha. I’ll be waiting for you near the campfire.

It’s only when his shadow disappears that the tension finally lets go of her chest. One of her hands glides along her face, a sigh escaping through her fingers. The bed is neatly made before she covers herself in warm furs and sturdy leathers. She then takes a deep breath as she opens the entrance of the tent, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness in her muscles. The tremors seizing her body are not from the midgardian frost waiting for her outside ; but she decides to play pretend, holding her head high as she steps in the fresh morning snow. Sól greets her with a wintery kiss on her cheek, highlighting MacTavish’s figure in the distance. She marches towards him, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares of his companions.

Vænn. A catch. A prey. That is what she is in the eyes of those who see themselves as a pack of wolves, their fur covered in blood as they take whatever they want, destroying those who refuse to yield : nothing but a frail creature meant to follow their every word in order to stay alive. Soap has made his intentions of courting her clear, promising that no harm shall befall her while she lives among his peers ; but as he greets her with a smile, guiding her towards the forest with a hand on her back, she knows she cannot allow herself to be afraid. One wrong move, and she shall become nothing more than a meal to be shared in their den.

A frozen blade pierces her core as these thoughts dance in the back of her mind. The forest is peaceful, and they slowly carve their own path through its shimmering white coat. Her gaze roams her surroundings as MacTavish starts gathering a thick bundle of branches under his arm, looking for a patch of herbs to collect. Their eyes meet, causing him to send a smile in her direction before resuming his own search. The snow crunches heavily under his boots. Her attention flickers to the blade hanging from his hips, the iron of its handle glinting in the sun. She frowns as her mother’s voice echoes through her memories.

You are not safe, she says, and she can almost see her spectre glare at the warrior’s silhouette walking ahead of her.

You are not safe.

[corpsebasil]

Brother and Sister

When being chased by enemy Grisha, your friend and you have to do some questionable things.

"Come on," Nikolai urged, tugging you down the hallway. He was your friend, your best friend, but he had no patience for you now as you gasped for breath. Damn you, you should've taken up his requests to join him on his morning runs. "move faster or I'll pick you up, Y/N."

"Pick me up and I'll beat your ass, Nik."

You were shorter than him. Much shorter—the man towered over you, for fuck's sake—and he had a habit of carrying you around when you didn't want him to. Picking you up and tossing you into the lake, spinning you around with you bridal style in his arms at balls—at balls; you'd never felt so embarrassed—and even, one time, lifting you up and tossing you over his shoulder, making you shriek as he sprinted up the stairs, your eyes trained on the ground, your hands digging into his sides.

"It'd be like fighting a kitten." He snorted but froze when the two of you rounded the corner and reached a dead-end. "Fuck." He cursed, looking over your shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps. "Hurry, make out with me."

"What?"

"Oh, don't pretend you've never wanted to."

"I have never—”

"Darling!" He yelled, way too loudly, and your eyes widened. "What are you doing, making such moves on me?!"

"Nik, what the fuck."

"Don't touch me there! Not in public!"

"Nikolai I swear on every single Saint in history—” Your words died as the first Grisha moved into sight, and you hurriedly allowed him to drag you up against him. "Oh—” you quickly searched your mind for a name.

"Adonis." He whispered sharply.

"ADONIS!" You wailed, forcing him to sit on the nearest bench, hiding his face from the Grisha's sight. If they recognized him, it was over. "I want to touch you! My bosom aches for you!"

"You cannot think such things about me!" He protested, and you had to quickly stare at the wall when you looked down to see him grinning. "Y/N no—” You climbed on top of him, throwing your head back and letting out a pornographic moan. Nikolai stuttered, his hands gripping your hips tighter, before he managed to speak again. "Y/N no! You're my sister!"

"Only by blood." You groaned, running your hands all over him, and you heard someone retch in the background.

"Should we kill them?" The Grisha whispered, most likely to an ally. "Would save the world from at least one disturbing occurrence."

"Oh sure, saving Ravka from incest. How noble."

You, feeling inspired, unbuttoned the front section of your dress, allowing the top of your corset—the thing pushing your breasts up sky high—to show. Nikolai practically choked on his own saliva as he fought not to stare and, as he watched with barely suppressed horror, you turned and allowed the Grisha to see the top of your chest. You were barely a centimeter of fabric away from being exposed and the two men's eyes widened.

"Are you not gentlemen?" You demanded, pretending to hurriedly cover yourself up. "I am a lady. Look away from me you perverts."

"My apologies miss." The first one said, the second merely turning completely red and sketching a hasty bow. You could've laughed; even when they turned against the King, they still had manners beaten into them from a young age.

"Get out!" You shouted, watching as they backed up rapidly. "I shall tell General Kirigan of this! Can a woman not have one night left with her brother before war and—”

You'd never seen two Grisha turn and bolt so quickly; the one on the left gagged again as he ran, and it took everything to hold back the laugh that soon burst out of you. Nikolai was watching you, eyes wide, when you turned back. All of your thrashing had settled you ridiculously close to him on his lap—your chest was practically pressed up against him.

"You, Y/N," he said, reaching out to button up your dress. You tried to ignore the way your skin flushed at the touch of his fingers deftly hiding your corset. "amaze me."

"Should I go into theater?" You asked, tilting your head as he moved to hold your waist again, and you once again ignored the feel of his hands squeezing you gently. "I think the sibling thing really sold it. Good improvisation on your part."

“Thank you. I am talented if nothing else.” He laughed, peering up at you. “But don’t moan like that again. I swear you’re doing things to me.”

“What things?” You teased, wiggling around in his lap.

“Stop it.” He said, glancing at your mouth, then your eyes. “We need to get out of here.”

“Lead the way, prince.” You said, climbing off his lap, and allowed him to take your hand, leading you out towards a secret exit.

[mystar-girl57]

𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐌

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

Summary: widowed Jake sully x reader

Warnings: reader has Thalassophobia (phobia of oceans/deep and large bodies of water)

Notes: okay ngl i'm starting to love reader and I wanted to add that bit in with Jake and turning his kids into soldiers because I see people debating that so much. I personally believe he isn’t but I just wanted to add it for drama. Anway love you all so much! <33

The next few days went by in a blur for you. As soon as you and Jake got inside your tent you had a family meeting announcing that you needed to leave High Camp. Unsurprisingly the children started to protest not wanting to leave their home. The forest is all they had ever known, the trees the animals, this was their sanctuary. You did not want to leave either, having such an attachment to this part of Pandora but you gently explained that it was for not only their safety but for the good of the clan. So after a few tears and comforting words everyone got to work packing.

When you arrived to tell Mo’at that you all were leaving she simply shook her head and mumbled something along the lines of “Ewya’s will”. Oh how you had come to hate that term “Ewya’s will”, anything that you did as of late was by Ewya’s will for better or worse and right now it had been primarily worse.

On the day that everything was packed and the Ikrans were ready to go the clan gathered at the Tree of Souls, your sacred spot to mourn the “death” of their dear Olo'eyktan and praise the rising of their new leader. You could not help but blink back tears as you looked up at the mighty tree, your direct connection to Ewya, your long lost family members, Neytiri. It had been since the last war against the Sky People that you visited here and now it was hitting you that you may never see the tree ever again.

Once Jake’s title had been passed onto the new leader of his choosing, the time to leave had come. The clan was split in two as you paraded down the middle in a quiet march, cries and wails from some of the members filled the atmosphere. You carried Tuk in your arms and Kiri stayed close to your side, her tail in her hands. You could feel the pain coming from both girls as Tuk sobbed into your neck. You kept your chin held high, willing yourself not to cry as you mounted Eylan and collected Tuk into your arms, wrapping the cloak around the both of you so you stayed warm.

You all looked back among the clan on final time before taking off into the sky.

The journey was a brutal one. For several days and several nights you flew across Pandora. The further from the forest you flew the worse that the conditions got. Soon land was no more and to your horror all that you could see was water.

Jake singalled for everyone to land on a beach that was at the cusp of the water for a break. You subconsciously obeyed, sending Eylan into a dive to the sandy land below. When Eylan touched the ground you hardly noticed. Your eyes were instead focused on the endless stretch of water that lay in front of you. It was a dark blue and you knew that if you were to fall into it you would be consumed into its darkness. Just the thought of it made you sweat.

Luckily there was a tug on your arm and you snapped your attention away from the water and down to Tuk who was still in your arms. She had a frown on her face, her big yellow eyes filled with concern. “Is everything okay Mama?” She asked, having noticed your panicked look and your labored breathing (something you were not even aware that you were doing.)

You gave a nervous chuckle, showing the little girl a fanged smile. “No need to worry Tuk, I am alright.”

Tuk gave you a look that told you she did not believe you but she didn’t have time to question you as Jake called out to the group. “Sully’s meeting fall in.”

You set Tuk down onto the sand gently letting her run ahead before you as you dismounted Eylan. When you got to the huddle pile you took a knee beside Lo’ak.

“Where we are going,” Jake began, “is to a clan known as the Metkayina. They live on the reefs of the Eastern sea. They are a water village meaning they are polar opposites from what we are used to. Instead of having a forest floor to run on or trees to swing through they have water and beaches.”

You frowned, your ears folding a bit as you side eyed the dark ocean to the left of you.

“What do we do if they say we cannot stay?” Tuk asked looking up at her dad and the kids looked at each other. That was a factor you yourself had not thought of. The selfish part of you hoped that they would turn you away so that way you would not have to be around such bodies of liquid death but you knew that this was your only chance of survival.

“Then we’ll keep searching sweetheart,” Jake sighed pulling his youngest close, “We’ll keep searching.”

You noticed the tiredness in the former leader’s tone. He was just as scared as the rest of you. He could not promise you all that this would be your safe haven, that you would be welcomed with open arms. But at this point all you could do was try.

The flight across the water was the worst part of the trip you had decided. As your mood worsened, so did the weather. Massive waves threatened to swallow you as you tried to maneuver around the sharp rock that seemed to rise out of the sea at the last moment. Tuk was nuzzled into your arms, her tail around your waist as she hid herself in your cloak. You felt her body shiver against yours and you pressed her closer to you, hoping to give her some warmth.

You looked on either side of you, Kiri and Lo’ak had their faces turned against the wind blinded by the sea spray and rain. Neteyam on the other land like his father was trying to keep his head held high, braving through the storm.

After a few more hours of flying in the inclement weather you came to the end of the storm front and the sun was shining down on you. The ocean below grew from a deep and deadly blue to be more shallow and transparent. But despite how innocent the water looked now you still knew how dangerous it was.

You felt a squirming and looked down to see Tuk popping her head up from under the cloak, her eyes still puffy with sleep. “Are we almost there?” She yawned. “I suppose we are.” You sighed seeing a village come into view.

As you drew closer you saw several na’vi out in the water. Most were swimming, fishing or collecting different sorts of supplies. What you noticed instantly though was how different they looked compared to you. They were a lighter, more green color than you, their features broader compared to yours. “They look funny mama.” Tuk whispered as you flew over the barrier and a horn blew. “Sh, manners Tuk.” You gently scolded while you followed Jake, landing on the edge of the beach.

Your arrival had drawn a crowd. Several of the Metkayina had come up to the beach, circling around you. You felt the tension rise in the air as you dismounted Eylan and helped Tuk down. “Stay close to me,” you whispered to the youngest Sully and she obliged, grabbing your tail.

Eyeing the clan members and the massive spears they carried you reached into your saddle bag for your barbed whip. Your eyes caught Jake’s and he shook his head, silently telling you not to bring it. You however gave the group another look and slipped it onto your loin cloth, letting it blend in as an accessory.

You watched as the crowd parted and a large Metkayinan man came up to you. He was taller than Jake, more muscular. His body bore several tattoos and from the way he was dressed you could easily see that he was a part of a higher power in the village. Then it dawned on you, this must be Tonowari. The Metkayina’s Olo'eyktan. You and Jake both gave him the sign of “I see you” and he did it to the two of you in return before pulling back to inspect you. The aura you got from him was not violent, he did not seem threatened by your presence, just concerned and confused.

He looked at each of you, making eye contact and when he came to you you did your best to not break it. The crowd parted one more and a woman came to his side. This was Ronal you figured, the Metkayina’s tsahìk. Unlike her husband she looked at you with nothing but distrust in her eyes. But you still gave her the motion of “I see you” just the same, not that she bothered to respond.

“Why do you come here.” Ronal demanded her words sharp. Jake took a breath and looked her in the eyes, trying to keep his tone calm, though he sounded almost meek. “We come seeking uturu.” His words earned a gasp among the clan. This request was rarely made throughout the Na’vi clans, it was always used as a last resort.

Ronal stepped into the small group that the you and the sully family had formed grabbing random parts of your body. She grabbed your tail then let it go and grabbed Kiri’s, making a comment about how it would be useless in the water. The teen girl let out a sound of pain as the woman squeezed her tail and you hissed. Ronal turned to look at you. She studied you and your body language with an unfazed demeanor. She noted how you were tense, holding Tuk behind you with your ears back and your teeth bared. Ronal was not the least bit intimidated and she continued on without a word. When she let go of Kiri’s tail the teen ran to you and stood behind you, Tuk holding onto her.

You watched Ronal’s movements with narrowed eyes. She went to Lo’ak and grabbed his hand. You knew what was about to happen. The tsahìk gasped in disgust before growling and holding his arm up so the clan could see his five fingered hand. “These children are not even true Na’vi!” She announced, “They have demon blood!” The clan broke out in murmurs, some even hissing, putting on a display of dominance trying to intimidate you.

Out of instinct you went to grab the weapon that was on your hip but Jake jumped in before anything happened. “Look! Look!” He waved his five fingered hand to Ronal, “I was born of the sky people but now I am na’vi. We can adapt.” He looked at the rest of you. “We will adapt.”

Ronal went back to her husband who was looking more unsure. “I have heard of your stories Toruk Makto and I know that your past is a violent one. We Metkayina are at peace. I am sorry but I cannot let you bring your war here,”

You let out a sigh feeling the rejection coming on as Tuk slipped from your grasp running to her father. Jake was beginning to feel desperate as he picked his daughter up. “No, no I am done with war I promise you.” He patted Tuk’s back, holding close to her. “I just want to keep my family safe.” Jake reached out and pulled you to him. “Please.”

This was a prime example of the displays that the two of you put on to appear as a doting couple. The hand that was currently settled on your hip meant nothing, you were just there to send the point home. To convince Tonowari and his mate to let you stay.

Tonorwari looked at you and Jake before looking down at his wife. They swapped looks, having a conversation that only the two of them could understand. Their blue gray eyes darting about searching the others. Finally Ronal shook her head, breaking eye contact. It seemed Tonowari had won.

“Everyone! We will bring the Sully family into our village. Treat them like they are your brothers and sisters. But remember, they will be like babies in the water, taking their first breath. Teach them our ways so they do not have to suffer the feeling of uselessness.”

At his words Jake perked back up, his hand coming off your hip. The ploy the two of you had put on worked. But what you were most concerned about was what Tonowari had said. Babies in the water. You looked to the water once more, tuning out what the rest of what the Olo'eyktan was saying. You would have to get in the water one way or another.

“Come on Mama!” Tuk’s excited squeal cut into your thoughts as she grabbed your wrist. You helped take some of the heavier items from her arms leaving her with a woven basket and you proceeded to follow the family into the village.

The girl who was showing you to your new home as you walked across the bouncy bridge was named Tsireya, the daughter of Tonowari and Ronal. Tuk was having the time of her life as you walked through the village bouncing along the walkway in front of you. “Come on Tuk,” You gently urged as you fell behind.

When you walked into your new home, a marui pod you found it did not differ too much from your home back at High Camp. “Oh this is great,” Jake grinned walking while carrying his gun box, “oh this is perfect!” You on the other hand did not think that it was perfect as you noticed the water underneath you.

“Alright Sullys take a knee, family meeting.” Jake announced once everything was set down. “Look, I want you all to be on your best behavior, learn their ways, be kind, be respectful, remember it is a privilege for us to be here.” You knew that most of the speech was for Lo’ak with how Neteyam pinched his brother’s braid.

Tuk however did not enjoy the speech and a sob rumbled from her throat catching everyone’s attention. “I don’t want to stay here,” she cried, “I want to go home.” At her words your heart broke and you opened your arm to her and she instantly hugged you. Jake sighed softly, “I know sweetheart but, this is our home how,” he gently rubbed her hair the best he could from how she was situated against you. “We just have to make the best of it.”

Make the best of it indeed. You thought unsure of how you would be able to do that. You knew that this was Ewya getting at you for ignoring her, but if she wanted you to start listening to her she needed to let up on you and the family you looked after. You knew in your heart, in your gut that things could and would get much worse. You just hoped that when that time came you would be prepared.

© 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫-𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝟓𝟕 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬

🏷: @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @newjeansbonnie @cleverzonkwombatsludge @atxara @jakesully-sbabygirl @ducks118 @ssc7514 @squidalapobre @anxietydrogz @myheartfollower @misscaller06 @itzyahgirllkita1

[idkfitememate]

Got bored couldn’t sleep so here are my jumbled up thoughts from 1 AM, sorry if it’s misspelled or not GN (plus idk who the character you’re speaking too is as I write this note) I’m not in an aware state of mind rn LMAOOOO-

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

Over and over you repeated those words to a still Tanjiro as you clutched at his pants, kneeing on the pebble-ridden ground.

Behind you and in front of him was a desolated village, corpses strung about in different ways.

Blood soaked into your skin and caked your hair. The iron stench followed you as your fingers forced the crimson liquid onto this clothes, taunting him with your sin.

That same sin that left your mouth a bloody mess.

He could recall a time, a much happier time, when he would call to you on summer days and you’d both sit in your worn and hand-me-down clothes and shoes, holes stitched closed and teeth missing, in the middle of flower fields. One making a flower crown for the other as you both stared into the bright blue sky speckled with fluffy white clouds.

How you’d knock your heads together, you always complaining about how hard his was - like stone you’d say - when you both laid in the tall grass.

How your hand would encompass his as you dragged him through the streets of the small town down the mountain from where he lived.

Where he lived…

Turning away from your still sobbing form, he took a glance at the mountain in the distance.

His mountain.

… Once upon a time, that had been your nickname for him.

“My Mountain.”

It was meant to show how he was the one thing keeping you grounded, something to look and gaze upon in awe and wonder. A force of nature not to be trifled with and a pillar of hope amongst men.

… His sword felt heavy in his hand. A part of him itching to get it over with. He’d raise his arm up high to the gods and slash it down with honor. To feel the blood on his skin.

Your blood.

Another part desperately wanted… no. Needed to understand why. Why you choose to become this, this is… if you choose.

A scene of thick snow in a barren forest played through his mind. That same stench that floated around you filled his nose with the sharp coolness that winter often brought. A heavy weight on his back as tears blurred his vision, causing him to misstep and fall, tumbling down a small… it was larger than a hill but smaller than a cliff, he reasoned.

That horrid growling that haunted his dreams. It had gotten better as months passed, but that first growl he heard had been etched into him, into his very soul. Stitched into his being as a driving force to ensure he never heard it again.

That she’d never make that noise again.

Your wails broke him out of his trance, cold gaze meeting your puffy eyelids as you sobbed louder, his eyes locking onto your sharpened teeth, still stained with blood, something small stuck to your canines.

Hair and flesh.

His stomach twisted but he forced the feeling down. With how wide your mouth was opened, he could see down your maw and into your throat. He watched as it flexed and moved, gyrated almost, as you forced those retched screams and cries from your throat, begging for some kind of mercy.

He was sickened, as he had every right to be. You were no longer human. You had committed a terrible sin, his mind reminded. Unlike the one he was trying to save, you gave into those urges, those horrid, vile and canabalistic desires.

Though, could they be called canabalistic anymore?

You weren’t human.

Your sharpened nails tore through the fabric of his pants, gracing his skin with red lines that slowly began to bleed. Your eyes, when they opened, had oddly shaped pupils and shining colors, entrancing almost. Your skin was unnaturally colored, with bulging veins running across the surface. Your hair was a shade no humans could ever reach, shining and plentiful and in seemingly good health, unlike when you were… alive.

He remembers when you both had met for the first time.

He was younger and his father was in much better shape, taking both coal and wood down the mountain with his son not far behind.

Your mother owned a small stand that sold small hand-made trinkets and otherwise made from wood.

He was hugged to his father’s leg as your mother bought wood directly from him to carve, her fingers marred and covered with bandages. He then saw you.

Your face was sunken and your eyes just a bit too big for your head. Or perhaps it was the fact that your head was just practically the skull, no fat or anything of the sort. It was the same for your body.

Small and thin, your clothes hung baggy off your body, almost looking two sizes too big for you. Your hair was thin and ragged, looking like a doll with its hair pulled out in chunks.

Despite this, you smiled at the other with far too many missing teeth, waving with your also bandaged hands.

He waved back.

Looking at you now as snot and tears dibbled pathetically down your face and into your mouth, that of which then drooled lazily onto the earth, he could still see some of the old you, the one he knew, in there.

They way the breeze shook you gently as though it would take your fragile body with it - no matter how light - or the way he had saw you hungrily shoving fistfuls of the meat down your mouth as though it might be stolen from you, how you shivered and jittered when you saw him in excitement before slowly beginning to shake and cry uncontrollably.

A small part of him felt bad, with how you crawled towards him on hands and knees, practically begging him to forgive you. How you prostrated yourself before him as though that would change anything, pleading with him to ‘help you’ and to ‘save you’.

His mind screamed that you were beyond saving.

That you were nothing like his sister.

He hadn’t even noticed his own crying until he felt sharpened claws on his cheek, though they weren’t yours as they were still buried to the hilt in his leg.

Instead, his gaze locked onto pink serpent like eyes, veins noticeable as the pupils dilated and contracted with visible worry. Long black hair with orange ends blocked you from his line of sight as the one he was doing this - all of this - stood before him.

His sister.

She turned to look at you, that same mixture of disgust yet pity rushing over her, he could smell it.

The siblings stood and stared down at your form as you continued to wail and cry. His sibling at his side gently grasped the blade in his shaking hand as she helped him raise it skyward, her palm gripping the back of his.

But just before they could release the blade-

“Wait!! Please!!”

A females voice called out from the carnage.

And out from your tiny hut at the end of the village crawled your mother.

She looked better than she had in the past, her skin having a much healthier glow than it had last time they had saw her, and she was much more steady on the old crutch the boy had seen her using as he left town to help his sister at the very start of their journey.

She hobbled over to your crying form, ‘shushing’ you and bending down, the crutch falling with a ‘thud’. She grabbed your head and rested it on her chest, running a hand through your hair as you continued to cry and beg for forgiveness. Tongue and throat bleeding from how worn they had become from your screams and hollers.

“I’m here… mothers here… you were doing so good… I know you didn’t mean too…” Her words settled over the scene like freshly fallen snow.

Her clothes and skin were untainted by your sin, a stark contrast to you, the boy, the girl - who had all but been drenched in blood by this point - and the bodies of those around you.

He couldn’t bear to look into their faces as he knew he’d recognize far too many of them.

Far to many lives snatched away.

He wondered how your mother, bless her heart and soul, could even look at you in this time. She obviously knew that you were the cause of this carnage and chaos, so how could she?-

“After you left,” she began, her words slicing through his train of thought, “the people turned on us. I could no longer offer my goods and services as we had no one to chop wood.”

You shook and shivered in her grasp, heaving heavily, greedily taking in massive gulps of air as though you deserved it despite the lives you took.

“It got to a point where we were forced to survive off the scraps and otherwise. Our home was taken from us and we were left in the alleys, begging to whomever would listen.”

Your voice was gone so you whimpered into her chest, listening deeply to her beating heart, something you would never allow to stop as long as it was in your power.

“Then one night, under the shadow of the moon, a man wondered into our quaint little alley. His eyes were as red as a plum, his hair as black as ink. His suit was western, black, white, and embroidered with gold.”

The boy watched as his sister’s eyes grew wide for a moment before lowering into a glare. He could hear your growl slightly from your face pressed into your mother’s neck.

“He attacked in a moment, speaking something of ‘not much, but it’ll do.’ He went for me first, I assumed it was because of my naturally weak state, so I resigned to my fate with little resistance, hoping he would spare my child in good faith. But instead, they jumped on his back, throwing hands on his eyes and head butting him, much like you would’ve, they said.”

She sighed, then moved your head to her thighs, you nuzzling into them with a whine.

“He pushed them into a wall, then jabbing a finger into their forehead. He glanced coldly at me, telling me I’d make a ‘Good first meal’. That was the day we learned of… Demons”

Her voice shuddered as she continued to run fingers through your hair.

“Though, when they awoke, they did not attack me, they stared. We learned the next morning of their vulnerability to the sun, I quickly hid them away. Forced them down from their sudden hungers when they showed, forcing them to sleep instead.”

The boy glanced to his sister. That was something you had in common, it would seem.

Sleep to hide the hunger pains.

“They were doing great, up until a few hours ago. Someone had taken things… too far. He stole my crutch, demanding I wed him despite my decrepit form, claiming he had eyes on me before my late husband. And when I said no, he slammed me to a wall, saying I had no say in the matter and he was to wed me anyway. That I should’ve felt happy that someone even glanced my way anymore, that I was ungrateful for not jumping on the opportunity, especially with a child living in poverty with me. I, of course, still said I objected, and then he… he slapped me. Something inside them snapped I tried to hold them back but… I suppose they were just tired with how they all dared treat us. Either as monsters tormenting us, or by-standers doing nothing.”

All eyes melted into your form as you snored lightly, chest finally rising and lowering at a normal pace. Tears still ran down your face, however.

“Truly, they are sorry. Don’t you understand?”

Her hand went to the boys sister.

“You hold onto one just as closely as I. Do we not share a similar sorrow?”

‘We do.’ They boy though, wanting nothing more than to steal his sister away from this world, to stow her away from this worlds gaze till the end of time.

And yet, he had a duty to the people, and you had broken that cardinal sin.

So with his still raised hand, connected to his sister, he whispered an apology to both you and your mother, before swinging it down before her eyes.

Your head rolled peacefully off to the side, a smile and ‘thank you’ on your lips as you faded away, the dust of your form clawing into the air.

In your place, your mother wailed.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around her, grief filling the town as all three began to wept for innocents lost and time never to return now that it had been lost. As they huddled like a family, kneeling on the dirt pathway, as your mother’s kimono became drenched in your sin, the blood of others.

As the sun began to rise and they all moved into a still standing home, taking off their shoes as they entered. As they laid down onto the futon together on the tatami, cuddled into each other’s warmth.

Sobs dying down and becoming echos of the past as three heartbeats became one, breaths slowing to near halts as they reluctantly relaxed and gave into the gentle hands of sleep.

Then, Tanjiro woke up.

Surrounded by a softly snoring Nezuko and curled up Zenitsu who grumbled with the foot of a starfish-posed Inosuke in his face to his right.

On his left?

You and your mother, her skin, nails, and eyes matching yours as you both cuddled to his side to share warmth. His eyes met hers as she smiled.

“Thank you… for saving us from that awful fate Tanjiro…”

Her lips curled into a smile as you muttered something in your sleep, her arm reaching over you to push you into her body. Her arm continued to stretch, petting the redheads head.

“Your kindness truly is a gift of the gods…”

She yawned, licking her lips, before letting her head rest on the pillow given to her and you to share.

“Thank you…”

Tanjiro smiled at the people around him.

At his family.

Feeling safe and protected, he let himself drift off, feelings of comfort and contentment rushing through him like the roaring waves of the ocean or a flame burning bright within.

Yes… This was home.

And he’d do anything to protect it.

Alright that’s enough writing okay byyyyeeeeee I’m gonna go to sleep nowwwww Good niigghgttttttt

It’s like 2:30 am rn LMAOOOOOOO

I’m delirious :3

[marauderverse]

With Love// F.W x Reader pt.4

Summary: Y/n Dursley of number 4 Privet Drive hates her life. That was, of course, until the summer before grade 9, after an oddly charming redhead and his brothers helped her cousin escape. it was probably a good thing he forgot to return that key.

word count: 1.7k

The letter came one June afternoon.  

Y/n was on her way back from school, and her brother running off with his friends to do god knows what. 

Her father was at work, and her mother was out getting groceries. 

She had the house to herself and couldn’t have been more elated. 

A light tapping on the widow by the kitchen sink alerted her to the barn owl. 

She stood up, making her way over and tentatively taking the letter from its beak. 

Dursley family

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

She turned the letter over; sure, this was again a letter explaining what Hyginks Harry had gotten himself into this month. 

To her surprise, it was an invitation. 

Dursley Family,

You have been cordially invited to spectate the third and final task of the 1994/95 Triwizard Tournament. 

If you are to accept this invitation, we expect your owl no later than June 20th.

A representative will escort you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at 11:30 am on June 24th.

We eagerly await your reply.

Yours sincerely

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

She grinned as she read the letter. She turned to the owl that was still perched on the window sill. 

“Can you just wait a moment?” She asked the owl; it simply blinked at her with its large eyes. 

She ran up to her room, grabbing a pen, paper and the owl treats from her room. 

She stopped at her kitchen table, quickly scribbling down a reply. 

Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall

I would be delighted to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to spectate the 1994/95 Triwizard tournament.

The rest of my family will not be in attendance. 

Yours Sincerely

Y/n Dursley

Harry’s Favourite Cousin

She folded the paper in half. 

She gave the owl a treat before handing it the letter and watching it fly off into the evening sky. 

She grinned, excitement bubbling in her chest at the prospect of being able to see the magic school. She, a muggle (Which Harry would often call her to annoy her), surely this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

Her spirits were high all evening; even her mother's nagging couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. 

“Why are you so happy?” Dudley had asked rather loudly. 

y/n shrugged. 

“It’s nothing, and even if it were, I wouldn’t tell you because you would just spoil it,” she shot back. 

“I would not,” he protested, face scrunching up and beginning to turn red. 

“Yes, you would; you always do. Remember my year four violin recital? I was so excited to show Mum and Dad what I had been working on, and the night before, you threw a tantrum because you didn’t want to go, and I had to miss my own recital,” she explained.

“I did not!” he was beginning to sound like an overgrown baby. 

“Or what about when I was thirteen? And I was having my friends stay the night for my birthday, and you didn’t want them in the house because you wanted to play your video games in peace, so you screamed and cried until I had to cancel my birthday,” she retorted. 

Dudley was on the verge of another one of his tantrums; she could feel it. His face was red as a tomato, and he breathed heavier than normal. 

“So no, Dudley, I’m not going to tell you why I’m so happy tonight,” 

“Mum!” Dudley wailed, throwing himself onto the ground.

Three seconds flat, and their mother was already by his side. 

“What’s wrong, duddies?” She cooed. 

“Y/n’s tormenting me,” he fake bawled. 

She turned her attention to her daughter. 

“What have I said about bullying your brother Y/n? You’re sixteen now; this is completely unacceptable behaviour,” She screeched. 

Y/n shrugged, turning around to make her way up the steps. 

“I ought to ask the Weasley twins for more of those magical toffees,” She said loudly enough for her brother to hear. 

She grinned at the genuine scream of terror he let out at her words. 

She didn’t have to wait long for a reply from the deputy headmistress. 

It was the Saturday of the same week the letter had initially arrived. This time it was delivered directly to her. 

Y/n Dursley 

First Room to the Left

Second floor 

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Dear Miss Dursley,

We appreciate your timely reply. 

Due to the nature of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it is pertinent that a witch or wizard must escort all Muggle Family Members. 

A representative will arrive at precisely 11:15 a.m on the 24th of June and escort you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where you will be able to spectate the third and final task of the 1994/95 Triwizard tournament. 

If you have any questions or further enquiries, please don’t hesitate to contact me. 

Yours sincerely

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

She grinned at the letter in her hands, an excitement she hadn’t felt before making its way to the surface. 

She couldn’t help the slight squeal of excitement from her lips. 

It seemed the morning of June 24th couldn’t come fast enough. 

She hadn’t told her parents what was happening, fearing they would lock her away in her room or something just as horrible. 

By some good fortune, everyone in her household was out that Friday.

Her father was at work, her brother at school and her mother was out with her friends for brunch. 

Three loud knocks echoed through the silent house. 

Y/n jumped up from the couch, swinging the door open. 

“Hello Y/n,” 

She was slightly taken aback by the man standing before her, but a wide grin cracked across her face. 

“Mr Weasley, it’s good to see you. I take it you’re my escort to Hogwarts?” She questioned. 

Mr Weasley nodded his head. 

“That’s right when McGonnagll told me you wanted to watch Harry in the last trial, I immediately volunteered myself.” 

She smiled bashfully at him. 

Stepping out into the warm June morning, she clutched the bouquet of flowers she got her cousin, Mr Weasley instructed her to grip his arm tightly and not let go. 

Hesitantly she did as she was told. 

In less than five seconds, they were standing in a little village she did not recognise, considerably more nauseous than she was a moment ago. 

“What the hell was that?” She asked, willing herself not to throw up. 

Mr Weasley let out an amused laugh.

“Sorry, I often forget Muggles aren’t used to magical travel,”

Y/n took a second, dropping the bouquet to the ground and inhaling deeply, placing her hands on her knees.

“Are you alright?” He asked, now slightly concerned for the girl. 

She dry heaved a few times, willing herself not to throw up in front of Mr. Weasley. Eventually, the bout of nausea left, and she could stand up straight once more. Collecting the flowers she had thrown aside.

“Okay, we are all good to go,” She smiled. 

Mr. Weasley was still wearing a concerned expression, but he nodded in understanding.

"Sorry about that. Apparition can be a bit disorienting for those who aren't used to it. But you handled it well," he said with a friendly smile.

Y/n chuckled nervously, "Yeah, well, it was definitely unexpected."

As they walked towards the magical carriages that would take them to Hogwarts, Y/n couldn't contain her excitement. The whole wizarding world was still a mystery to her, and she was eager to learn more.

“What's it like?” She began, “I ask Harry all the time but he won’t tell me anything interesting, he mostly just talks about quidditch and his classes and stuff. Are there any rules I should know about?"

As they settled into one of the carriages, Y/n couldn't help but be curious about Mr. Weasley's world. "And what about the Ministry of Magic? How does it work? Are there laws that everyone must follow?"

Mr. Weasley nodded, happy to elaborate. "Yes, indeed. The Ministry of Magic oversees magical law in Britain. We have various departments, such as the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, etc. Laws ensure the proper use of magic and protect the magical and non-magical communities."

Y/n absorbed the information, fascinated by the intricacies of the wizarding world. As they continued their conversation, Mr Weasley expressed his interest in the Muggle world.

Before she even knew it they had stopped; Mr. Weasley stepped out first and helped y/n down from the carriage. 

She turned, excitement bubbling in her chest. This was it; she was finally going to see the place Harry held so dear to his heart. The place she had envisioned for four years. 

But to her dismay, ruins stood staring back at her. It was a dilapidated building that was unfit for anyone to inhabit, never the less than 300 witches and wizards from across the country. 

“Uhm, Mr. Weasley?” She began jogging to catch up to him as she realised he had begun walking up the path towards the ruins. “Are we in the right place?”

Mr. Weasley stopped and turned to look at the girl, a look of confusion on his face. 

“Yes, of course we are, my dear,” he turned back and continued to walk. 

y/n hesitated for a moment. 

“It’s just, is this like a trick or something?” she couldn’t help the question. 

Mr. Weasley paused for a second, a look of realisation dawning on his face. 

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot,” Turning to look back at the ruins “, There are enchantments and all sorts of muggle-repelling charms put in place, you know, to keep from prying eyes. But I assure you, my dear, the castle is here, and once we are past those, you'll be able to see it as if you were a witch yourself.”

Excitement rose in her chest at those words. She was here; she was going to see it. 

One moment, it was ruins; the next, it was a magnificent and imposing castle. 

y/n was breathless. 

Maybe it was her imagination, but she swore she could feel the magic around her.

tagged : @aki-ham @ashdoctor